


life with you is {warm laughter rain beauty relief quiet pleasure promise struggle} heaven

by pumpkinless



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (no s8), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort, Lingerie, M/M, Married Sheith, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sexcations, Work-Life Balance, kidnapping plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinless/pseuds/pumpkinless
Summary: Feeling a little lonely, Keith plots to kidnap Shiro so they can reconnect with an anniversary sexcation. But first, he has to win over Shiro's new secretary.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 335
Collections: Sheithlentines 2020





	life with you is {warm laughter rain beauty relief quiet pleasure promise struggle} heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bioplast_hero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioplast_hero/gifts).



> happy sheithlentines to bioplast_hero!! i was so excited to see your prompt asking for post-canon space husband adventures because there's nothing i love more than imagining how sheith spend their lives together and, clearly, the length of this fic was out of my control <3 i hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> and take a peep at shiro's fancy new lingerie [here](https://xdress.com/products/cutie-ruffle-mens-panty) ([backup](https://66.media.tumblr.com/8719802fb94583dfd8bcfe2a4c872af5/c6dd1deb6a0cefec-ed/s1280x1920/b46bff2c7ec0ae0acbd26a11618fa6802a07febb.jpg))!!

Keith is a very busy man.

He works hard to balance being a Paladin, a Blade, a married man, a dog owner, and an amateur mechanic. Keith even has his very own office aboard the Atlas to help him manage this—he kind of hates everything it represents, but he has to admit he loves getting to tell people to leave him the hell alone when he’s out of office. And sometimes, like when Kolivan video calls, Keith even gets to tell people to leave him alone while he’s in the office. It’s a beautiful system. He plays nice enough with the Garrison, shows up for events Voltron has been invited to, takes a handful of longer undercover missions from the Blades every year, and still has time to play with space wolf most evenings. He spends his free weekends fixing up a junk ship he, uh, liberated a year ago from a space pirate trafficking in stolen goods. It’s a solid life, more stable than he ever expected to have, and he’s proud of what he’s accomplished to get here. Work-life balance is everything to him.

But just because Keith prefers to maintain a healthy distance from his work doesn’t mean that everyone around him does. Naturally, the worst offender by far is Pidge, who likes to hole up in their dark cave of a laboratory with a case of Five Hour Energy shots and a food goo dispenser, and then refuse to come out for five days. Somehow, Pidge always produces  _ results  _ through their madness and it terrifies Keith. 

While no one comes close to Pidge’s levels of madness, the second-worst offender still happens to be the man Keith married.

Shiro is . . . well, he’s just a workaholic at heart. Since Keith’s known him, he’s always been that way. He wakes up at an ungodly hour every morning to hit the gym before he takes a five-hour shift on the bridge of the Atlas, breaking for lunch and then holing up in his office, usually until well after most of the ship’s crew has eaten dinner. 

Keith loves Shiro, of course. He loves that man so much that sometimes just catching a glimpse of Shiro’s wedding ring on his finger or touching the ring Keith wears on a chain around his neck makes his eyes burn like he’s about to cry. In a good way. And Keith loves that Shiro is dedicated, hard-working, and deeply committed to the Coalition’s efforts to root out every last bit of the Galra Empire that still exists, even years after Honerva and her armies were defeated. Shiro is tireless in his work and he’s never been anything but humble about all the good he’s done. He’s everything Keith has ever wanted and he’s proud to work alongside Shiro.

Normally, Shiro is good about recognizing when he’s working too much and pulling back for a few days or taking a whole weekend off so he can relax and shower Keith in affection. It’s not a perfect system by any means, but they married each other knowing full well that both of them would sooner die than sacrifice a single one of their duties. That’s just the kind of people they are.

But.

_ But,  _ Keith knows now, there’s a difference between sacrificing your duty and just taking some goddamn time for yourself. He’s not nineteen and in the middle of a violent space war anymore; he’s a twenty-seven-year-old adult who wants more out of life than just work. He can’t be a good Blade or a good Paladin if he’s too exhausted to function, emotionally and physically.

He’s still trying to get Shiro on his level there.

This is the third night in a row that Keith has gotten his pajamas on, brushed his teeth, and sat down on his side of the bed before realizing that he has no idea where Shiro is. Their bed is too big and empty without him, and there’s just no substitute. Keith’s been sucking it up for two days and doing his best to fall asleep alone, but he hates every second of it and his quality of sleep is suffering. He just wants Shiro to stop  _ working. _

Space wolf sits at Keith’s feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he stares up at Keith, and Keith reaches down to pat him on the head. Space wolf does not make a good sleeping partner; he has a habit of taking over any bed he’s allowed to sleep in and Keith doesn’t like being crushed to death at night.

Normally, Keith respects that living and working in space means schedules get a bit wonky sometimes, but one late-night meeting because of time differences doesn’t translate to three nights alone without an explanation. Shiro is just being ridiculous. “I should go find him,” Keith says to himself. Space wolf’s eyebrow twitches in that way that always makes Keith think he can understand every word out of Keith’s mouth. Keith scratches his fingers under one soft, fluffy ear and space wolf leans into it, pushing his head into the touch so hard that Keith struggles to make his fingers still move. “You know that just makes it harder to pet you, right?”

Space wolf responds by butting his massive forehead against Keith’s shin. Message received.

Keith considers changing out of his pajamas, he really does. But he’s the goddamn Black Paladin and if he doesn’t want to do something as stupid as put real clothes on when he goes to haul his husband into bed, he’s not going to. The most he’ll do is shuffle into the worn Birkenstocks he usually wears to and from the gym.

He gives space wolf a kiss on the forehead because it’s impossible not to and then he strikes out on his mission.

The offices are three floors up from the living quarters. Keith traces the familiar path with a purposeful gait, his eyes narrowed just enough to warn away anyone who thinks now might be a good time to approach him for any reason. 

Keith is so caught up in his determination that he doesn’t even think to slow down as he enters Shiro’s office. The office is set up in such a way that it’s technically two rooms—the first is a small antechamber that Shiro uses as a little waiting room for the second room where his actual desk is. It’s meant to be nicer and more prestigious than all the other offices aboard the Atlas, special just for the captain. Keith has long appreciated that it means whenever he and Shiro want to have  _ private time _ in Shiro’s office, there’s a second door and wall between them and the hallway.

Usually, the waiting room contains only two comfortable chairs, a very large potted Arusian fern, and a really ugly rug that Keith hates but Shiro has to keep because it was a gift from an ambassador. Today, all of those things are gone. 

Keith misses two-thirds of them immediately.

What greets him instead as he sweeps into the room is a desk and a man Keith has never seen before, which is strange because Keith personally oversaw the background checks of every office onboard. It takes him a moment to understand what’s happening: his toe is throbbing now because he just smashed it against the leg of the new desk and the man is glaring at Keith like he’s done something much more sinister than accidentally kicking the leg of his desk. Keith forgives him but only because he thinks he just moved the desk about two inches back.

“Um,” Keith says in confusion. “Hi. Who are you?”

“Captain Shirogane’s personal secretary,” the man replies with a haughty arch of his brow. Right. A secretary. Keith knows Shiro has _not_ told him about this because he would remember something as big as that. The secretary is a neat looking man with dark hair and two stripes on the shoulder of his Garrison uniform. His desk is immaculate and Keith gets the feeling just from looking at him that it has nothing to do with him being new here. “Who are _you?”_

Keith doesn’t think he’s met very many humans in the last few years who don’t know him immediately by face and name. Aliens are a different story because the whole Voltron Show thing means a lot of them still think he’s Allura, but. Oh well. This whole experience is still very . . . surreal.

“Uh, I’m Keith,” Keith says slowly. Surely secretary man has at least heard that the Captain’s husband is named Keith and Keith is allowed into his office whenever. “Is—is Shiro here?” He doesn’t like the way this guy is looking at him.

“The Captain is very busy tonight,” the secretary informs him in what Keith thinks is a very snotty tone for the guy keeping Keith from his lawfully wedded husband.

“I know,” Keith tells him, crossing his arms. “I’m here to drag him away from work.”

“His next available appointment is tomorrow at seven a.m.,” the newest addition to Keith’s shitlist says with a rude flick of a look up and down Keith’s body. “I can schedule you for then.”

Keith looks down at himself. The giant purple plaid sleep pants he got out of Shiro’s side of the dresser clash pretty horribly with the giant yellow lion shirt that he stole from Hunk years ago, and overall it’s certainly not his best outfit. He had to roll the waistband of the pants up three times just to keep them in a relatively normal looking position. No part of him looks like a person who showed up close to midnight to make an appointment with the Captain of the Atlas but that shouldn’t  _ matter. _

“Can I just see him?” Keith says with a scowl. He starts to edge his way around the desk, but Secretary Asshole boldly stands and blocks his way.

“I’m sorry, sir, the Captain is  _ busy  _ at the moment. I can’t allow you to just barge in!”

“What could he possibly be busy with at this hour?” Keith growls. “Let me—let me through, oh my god— _ Shiro!”  _ He shouts his husband’s name in some vain hope that the soundproofing on this office is secretly terrible. (Okay, not really, they’ve relied on that way too many times.)

“I said for you to stand back,” the secretary snaps.

And—look. Keith can tolerate a lot of things. He’s come far in the last couple of years since the war ended and his patience for bureaucracy is somewhat existent, as opposed to completely absent. But he’s just not cut out for two things. And those two things are sleeping alone when he and his husband are on the same ship, and being purposefully kept from his husband by some random, short man who thinks he’s got a right to put his hands on Keith’s shoulders to push him back. 

Keith slaps his hands away.

“Out of my way,” he demands. Then he puts  _ his _ hands on the secretary’s shoulders and gives him a much more effective push to the side so Keith can make a prompt beeline for the door of Shiro’s office. It’s generous that he doesn’t put the guy on the floor and step on his throat.

“You can’t go in there!” the secretary yells, probably chasing after Keith.

But Keith has already gone in there. 

“Shiro,” he says, back pressed to the door like he can stop it from sliding open again. He slaps at the door lock button on the side, hoping that there isn’t some weird, heretofore unknown secretary override for that. “Who the hell was that?”

“Oh, hey, baby,” Shiro says, looking up from the datapad on his desk. “What are you doing here so late? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

All of Keith’s ire at the secretary disappears in an exasperated sigh as he marches up to Shiro’s desk, arms crossed so he looks stern. Shiro’s black and white paladin jacket is unbuttoned with the left sleeve pushed up to his elbow, a look that never fails to warm Keith’s heart, but he won’t let it sway him from his task. “I could say the same for you,” he says. “Why do you need to work late this week?”

“It’s performance review time,” Shiro says sheepishly. 

“Please tell me you’re not reviewing every single person on this ship.” Keith stares at him while Shiro avoids his gaze. “Shiro, 638 people work here.”

“And they all deserve feedback,” Shiro says earnestly, his eyes all big and cute the way he gets when he’s trying to get Keith to let him do whatever he wants. Normally Keith is no match for that face, but tonight when it’s depriving him of his spooning partner, it’s a very different story. “I know I’ve been busy lately, baby, and I’m sorry. I promise, just one more hour tonight. Then I’ll come home.”

“That’s not gonna work for me,” Keith says, walking around Shiro’s desk. “You need sleep and I deserve to see you occasionally.”

“Keith—”

“It’ll all still be here in the morning,” Keith interrupts. “And then you can make sure your secretary gets his  _ feedback _ about knowing who his employer’s husband is, okay? Come on, up, up.” Standing behind Shiro’s chair, Keith grabs Shiro under the armpit and arm port, bodily lifting him from his seat with only minor protest. Clearly, Shiro wants to leave and feels held hostage by his secretary, or something, because if he didn’t want to go, he could easily fight Keith off.

Shiro says, “You mean Amir? Amir didn’t know who you are?”

“He didn’t give me his name, but no, he did not.” Keith pauses while Shiro reaches down to his desk to turn off his computer and datapads, and then it’s back to marching him away from his work. “And since when do you have a secretary?”

“The Garrison decided I don’t answer communications promptly enough,” Shiro sighs. “Amir’s nice, though, I think you’d like him.”

Keith hums noncommittally as the door opens. He’s not certain he wants to be friendly with anyone who thinks it’s acceptable to schedule Shiro for a meeting at seven in the morning right after a late night. Amir is standing guard just outside, his eyes narrowed and furious gaze like a heat-seeking missile as it finds Keith standing behind Shiro’s shoulder. Keith resists the urge to smirk.

“Sir, I’m so sorry, he just shoved right by,” Amir the foolish secretary says.

“It’s okay,” Shiro says with a laugh. “He does that sometimes. Just let him in next time, it’s easier for all of us.”

Snorting, Keith pokes Shiro in the back with a bony knuckle, making sure to really jab it in there so Shiro gets moving.

“I’m turning in for the night,” Shiro says to Amir. “You should, too. I’ll see you in the morning!”

“Of course, sir,” Amir answers. It’s almost a grumble. The look he gives Keith is definitely a glare.

Whatever. Keith doesn’t have time to deal with Shiro’s new secretary’s weird complex about not letting the Captain get any rest when it’s clearly late. They  _ all  _ need rest—doesn’t Amir want to go home too? He doesn’t even seem to be relieved to be done for the night and Keith can’t imagine how long he’s been sitting at that desk today.

“He tried to get me to schedule an appointment with you,” Keith growls once they’re out of sight. “At seven in the  _ morning.” _

Shiro laughs and wraps an arm around Keith’s waist, tugging him up against his side. “I’d pay to see you get up that early for a meeting,” he says, then presses a kiss to Keith’s hair. 

“Never,” Keith mutters.

_ Never.  _ Not even for Shiro. Keith has a work-life balance to uphold. Also, he’s not a morning person unless the morning involves sex.

In a clear apology for making Keith come all this way, Shiro gives Keith a piggyback ride to their quarters because he is a  _ good  _ husband who never makes Keith do anything shameful like ask to climb on Shiro’s back.

“You’re looking cute tonight,” Shiro says as he lumbers away from the office.

“I’m feeling comfortable,” Keith mumbles. He’s too busy burying his face in the back of Shiro’s neck to chat—once he gets underneath the collar of his jacket, he can shove his nose straight into the scent of Shiro’s skin. Shiro smells warm and human, just a hint like his woodsy cologne, and even fainter of the ozone smell that follows everyone so long as they live in space. It’s a familiar combination and he’s missed it a lot.

“I’m glad you came to get me,” Shiro says. He squeezes Keith’s thigh affectionately as they step into the elevator.

“Bed’s so lonely without you,” Keith mutters. “I hate when you don’t come home.”

Shiro sighs so quietly that Keith probably would have missed it had he not been clinging to Shiro’s back. “I know, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Keith presses a dry kiss to the back of Shiro’s neck in acceptance. He knows Shiro doesn’t  _ mean _ to work hours that would be inhumane if anyone was forcing him to do these things, but it’s always going to be a sore spot for Keith. There just aren’t enough hours in the day for everything Shiro wants to accomplish, and that’s as admirable as it is frustrating.

When they enter their quarters, Shiro deposits Keith sans sandals on top of their bed, throws his jacket over the side of the hamper, and then heads into their ensuite bedroom. Satisfied that Shiro isn’t going anywhere else that Keith will need to rescue him from tonight, Keith kicks the pajama pants off his legs and leaves them in a pile next to the bed. He stretches his whole body with his toes pointed straight and his hands reaching as far as they can above his head. The moment of tension leaves Keith in a rush as he collapses back into the bed with a sigh.

Space wolf is curled up in a tight little ball on his doggy bed just outside the door, placed there because the bedroom isn’t  _ quite _ big enough for a properly sized dog bed. Keith can only see his nose tucked under the tip of his tail like a cat while he dreams, big paws twitching against his chin. Keith watches him for a moment, basking in the relaxing picture he paints.

It feels good to have his little family all together at night.

Keith turns his head to glance at the half-shut bathroom door and the light spilling out onto the floor. He bites his lip.

The other thing about Shiro working all the time is . . . well, it’s hard to have a sex life. It’s only been five days since they last were together, to be fair, and Keith knows he’s not going to die if he doesn’t get laid every night, but he still wants Shiro more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life. His desire doesn’t obey scheduling conflicts. It’s also not very satisfied by a quick blowjob followed by Shiro passing out right after telling Keith he doesn’t need to reciprocate.

Keith checks the time. It’s nearly midnight which is very late for both of them, but surely Shiro won’t mind staying up for another half hour if it’s with Keith, right?

He makes the decision for them both. Quick as he can, Keith springs out of bed and makes a beeline for that big jacket just sitting there  _ taunting  _ him. He throws his yellow shirt in the hamper and shrugs on Shiro’s jacket. It’s a little awkward because the jacket is tailored to fit a man with one attached arm and one floating prosthetic, so Keith has an entire arm sticking out the right side. He knows what Shiro likes, though, and that isn’t going to be a problem. Keith scrambles into bed when he hears the sound of Shiro brushing his teeth, then turns off the lights and pulls the covers over his body to hide his surprise until Shiro joins him.

Laying there with his back to the bathroom, Keith thrums with anticipation. Shiro’s scent lingers on the jacket and it’s only making him  _ more _ excited.

“Are you cold, baby?” Shiro asks when he comes back into the room. Keith hears the familiar  _ thunk  _ of Shiro’s prosthetic arm landing on the end table and powering down for the night.

“You should come warm me up,” Keith says after a pause. He feels a little ridiculous trying to seduce Shiro like this, but Shiro laughs to himself and climbs into bed behind Keith, scooting forward so he’s spooning Keith properly, left arm slung over his waist. Like they should have been this whole time.

“I’ll keep you warm all night,” Shiro promises against his skin. He leans up to leave a lingering kiss on Keith’s cheek that only ends when Keith turns further into it, begging for Shiro to kiss his lips next.

Shiro hums and gives Keith what he’s asking for, a thorough kiss that solidifies the swirling arousal in Keith’s belly. 

The kiss breaks when Shiro has to pull back for a jaw-cracking yawn. He must be exhausted—Keith could take care of him, could climb on top of him and do all the work so that Shiro can fall into a peaceful, easy sleep once they’re both satisfied.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers.

“I love you,” Shiro murmurs back. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Keith reaches a hand up to hold the side of Shiro’s head, burying his fingers in the side of his hair. Shiro’s going to need a haircut soon. A hand lands on Keith’s hip and skates up his side, and Keith swears there’s electricity crackling in the air between them at that moment. Shiro might be tired, but that doesn’t mean he’s too tired for this.

“You’re wearing my jacket,” Shiro says, his tone warm like there’s a smile on his face.

“It smells like you,” Keith says. He wiggles back to push his body more fully against Shiro’s, and it gets him a quiet laugh as Shiro presses his face into Keith’s hair to take one deep breath.

“Love it when you wear my clothes,” Shiro says. His arm tightens around Keith’s waist, pulling Keith in tighter against him and it makes Keith’s stomach flip with excitement. God, he’s missed this—missed how playful and sweet Shiro is with him.

“Can’t help myself,” Keith murmurs.

“Mm. Sleep well, baby,” Shiro whispers. He leans up to press one last slow, lingering kiss to Keith’s mouth.

And then he lays down.

Keith is left staring into the darkness in confusion. He  _ knows _ Shiro was interested—and Keith is clearly up for anything. There’s nothing subtle about him pulling on Shiro’s jacket when they both know just how much Shiro likes to see him in it. Like, in a sexy way. And Shiro even complimented him on it, right?

What is happening?

“You’re just gonna . . .  _ sleep?”  _ Keith asks uncertainly.

Shiro hums, voice thick like he’s on the verge of passing out. “You want something else?”

Keith doesn't say anything, too caught off guard. He doesn’t think Shiro’s ever turned down Keith when he was in their bed and wearing his clothes—it’s kind of Keith’s surefire way to get laid. 

Shiro sighs, nuzzles the back of Keith’s neck, and holds him tighter. “I’m sorry, baby.” He does sound genuinely apologetic. “I’m just so tired.”

God, okay. Keith melts back into him; he just can’t say no to Shiro getting some rest, not when Keith is intimately aware that his husband doesn’t usually get more than seven hours in one night. Even seven is an accomplishment. He pushes his arousal down, tamping down on his disappointment, and covers Shiro’s hand on his stomach with his own. “It’s okay,” Keith says, squeezing Shiro’s hand. He’s  _ mostly  _ okay. “Maybe I should have made that 7 a.m. appointment for an out of office meeting.”

Shiro laughs quietly behind him. “How about no appointment, and I wake you up with my alarm and we see what happens?”

“I could be okay with that.”

“Love you, baby. So much.”

Keith pulls Shiro’s hand up to his mouth so he can kiss his palm. “Love you too, Shiro. See you in the morning.”

“Always.”

***

Sadly, when morning comes, they're both sleeping so well that when Shiro’s alarm  _ does _ go off, neither of them hear it. Shiro wakes up in a panic an hour later than usual and there’s no time for intimacy—only time for him to sprint to the bridge to make his shift on time, leaving Keith completely alone in their quarters. Even space wolf has already disappeared to the kitchen to start begging for an early breakfast.

Keith sighs and dumps Shiro’s jacket in the hamper. He hates that this is starting to feel like the new normal.

***

Keith has a standing drinking night with Hunk every Thursday. Mostly it involves them watching movies and sipping on whatever they can get their hands on—alcohol is hard to come by when they haven’t stopped on Earth in a few months, but thankfully humans aren’t the only species in the universe who enjoy intoxication. There’s always something around that will do the trick. This week, Hunk has a case of something reminiscent of beer he got at the last planet they stopped at for supplies. But even though it tastes like beer, Hunk said it’s seventy proof and Keith knows he’s getting drunk tonight.

“What was this one called again?” Keith asks as he takes another sip. It’s so carbonated his nose burns but he kind of likes it.

“I can’t pronounce the name,” Hunk laments. “It’s completely incomprehensible to human ears.”

“Oh.” Keith stares at his drink with a newfound respect. It comes in a fat, round bottle that fits awkwardly in his hand. It’s also electric blue, but Keith has been led to believe that electric blue is considered a neutral color on the planet it came from. “Good find.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Hunk fiddles with the remote until the television pulls up the movie he wants Keith to see. Apparently, it’s a classic—something about a man who travels to the past and accidentally makes his mom fall in love with him. Keith isn’t sure how he feels about that premise, but Hunk has assured him that it’s a must-see for anyone interested in historical Earth movies. Keith’s also not sure that’s really his interest, but it  _ is _ Hunk’s week to pick the movie.

This is also the fifth night in a row that Shiro’s stayed late at his office without so much as a message to Keith about when he’ll be home.

Back when Keith and Hunk started this tradition, they used to alternate between their quarters because Shiro was around and Keith didn’t want to hog the small living room area. Shiro’s not much for movies, but he loves to curl up on the couch with a good book and Keith wants him to have that. But Shiro hasn’t taken a real break in ages, so Keith and Hunk have abandoned Hunk’s smaller screen for this one and Keith is mad about it. He’d much rather watch a movie somewhere else, come home, and crawl into his husband’s waiting arms than be comfortable in his home all night.

“Okay,” Hunk says slowly. “You’re brooding. Why are you brooding? I thought we got over this years ago.”

“I’m not brooding,” Keith says to be contrary.

“Right.” Hunk deliberately presses pause on the opening credits. He doesn’t say anything which is infuriating because Hunk is one of the few people in the world who can pressure Keith into talking when he doesn’t want to. It’s the power of kindness or something.

“I’m . . . mad at Shiro,” Keith grumbles.

“You’re  _ mad _ at him?” Hunk says skeptically. “You, Keith, are mad at Shiro.”

“Okay, I’m not mad at him,” Keith sighs. He tried to be mad and it didn’t work. “I’m just . . . tired of his work schedule. I feel like I haven’t seen him in days.”

“Ah.”

“He got a secretary and he didn’t even tell me about it,” Keith says. If he’s going to complain, he may as well go for it. “And he turned me down for sex two nights ago, which means we haven’t done anything in like a week and I’m—” Keith snaps his jaw closed because he doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence in front of Hunk. He’s horny and frustrated but he doesn’t need his friends to know that.

“I see,” Hunk says.

“Our fourth wedding anniversary is in a month,” Keith says glumly. “I don’t think he’s even going to remember.”

“Huh,” Hunk says. “Why do you say that?”

“He’s just so busy.” Keith takes another swig of his drink and finds it somehow even  _ more _ carbonated than before. Very odd. “I don’t know. If he remembers, I think it’s going to be like . . . dinner together and then he passes out right after and it’s right back to the normal schedule after.”

Keith feels kind of mean saying that, but he’s at the end of his rope and it feels good to vent. 

“I dunno, that doesn’t sound like Shiro,” Hunk muses. “Are you sure he’s not just, y’know, saving up his time off or something?”

Keith worries at his bottom lip. “Shiro’s not—we don’t keep secrets from each other,” Keith admits. He’s thought about this a lot, honestly, wondering maybe there was something else going on or a surprise Shiro had in the works, but they don’t do surprises bigger than showing up in each other’s offices and taking their clothes off. He adds, “Like even when he proposed, we had talked about it so much that it never felt like a shock. It was just right. I don’t think he’d start that now.”

Hunk’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder and squeezes gently. Keith knows Hunk would much rather give him a hug, but he’s respectful of Keith’s boundaries. “You know,  _ you  _ could always be the one to plan an anniversary,” he says. “Maybe Shiro just needs a reminder to get his head on straight.”

“That would mean him taking a night off from the office,” Keith says with a sigh. “Yeah. Maybe, I don’t know. I keep waiting for him to just pull his head out of his ass.”

“I’m sorry, buddy.” Hunk retracts his hand. “Y’know, I can’t help but think—this all reminds me of Pidge, I guess? And the only way to get them to do anything is to just . . . drag them kicking and screaming out of their lab when it’s time to eat. And maybe that’s what you need to do with Shiro.”

“Drag him kicking and screaming out of his office?” Keith asks dryly. He can’t imagine that working out well for either of them—Shiro has limits even to what he’ll let Keith do to him, and Keith doesn’t relish the thought of trying to physically restrain him from being at his desk. It sounds like a great way to embarrass them both in front of all of their coworkers.

“Okay, maybe don’t drag Shiro,” Hunk says with a laugh. “But I mean—just, maybe  _ you  _ need to be the proactive one here, right? It’s Shiro. He’s, like, the most stubborn guy in the world. Maybe even the universe.”

Keith’s mouth curls into a small smile despite himself. Stubborn Shiro.

“I think he just needs someone to lay down the law,” Hunk says with a shrug. “Show him you’re serious. Like, what’s the Shiro equivalent of picking Pidge up and dragging them out of their lab?”

“Probably forcing him to take a vacation,” Keith admits. He’s not certain Shiro knows the definition of the word vacation

“So make him take a vacation.” The way Hunk says it makes it sound so easy, like all Keith has to do is think it into the universe and it will be made true. And, because it’s Hunk, Keith kind of believes it. Maybe all he does need to do is give Shiro the kick in the ass of a break he so clearly needs.

“That sounds . . . difficult,” Keith says, half to himself. But the wheels are already turning. 

“I actually think you could both use a vacation,” Hunk says frankly. “Neither of you have even left the Atlas for anything but more work in—god, I don’t want to know how long. Don’t tell me, it’ll just make me sad.”

Keith frowns. “That’s not true,” he argues. “I was part of that delegation to Olkari just last month.”

“A delegation,” Hunk repeats, “is for work.”

“What about visiting the Blades to see my mom?”

“Uh, last time you did that, you came back to the Atlas with two black eyes,” Hunk says. He gives Keith some major side-eye. “I don’t know what you think a vacation is, but it doesn’t come with black eyes.”

Keith huffs and takes a sip of his drink—it’s not his fault the preferred hangout activity on the Marmora base is hand-to-hand combat. 

He’s running out of examples. There has to be a time he left the Atlas for leisure reasons, but the more he tries to come up with an answer, the less certain Keith feels that he gets any breaks at all. He wants to argue with Hunk and explain that, actually, he has plenty of time to himself, but—the thing is, Keith gets it. Living aboard the Atlas means that there’s never any moment when he’s truly off duty, and Hunk knows that as a fellow Paladin. They’re always on-call, always one moment away from sprinting to the Lions to spend hours on the battlefield. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen as regularly as it once did, but every couple of weeks the ship sounds the alarm and then it’s everyone to their battle stations. 

A vacation—a  _ true _ vacation—would mean getting away from all of that. No fighting the bad guys. No messengers approaching Keith while he’s working on his ship bringing him diplomatic news or asking for his immediate signature. No knocks on the door in the middle of the night telling him or Shiro to speak to someone important enough to have the privilege of summoning the Black Paladin or the Captain of the Atlas.

The more Keith thinks about it, the more he realizes how much he needs a break too.

It’s obvious in retrospect. Keith’s in just as much of a rut as Shiro is—because in what universe does Keith just sit passively by while Shiro is pissing him off by not coming home at night? Since when is Keith the lonely spouse pining at the door, praying for his husband to throw him a bone, hoping that Shiro will do something special for their anniversary because Keith is apparently incapable of taking matters into his own hands?

Since never, thank you. No, Keith is the kind of person who can out-stubborn the most stubborn man in the universe. If he decides he needs a vacation and Shiro needs a vacation, then they’re damn well going on vacation. He’ll make it happen.

“I’m taking Shiro on vacation,” Keith says. He’s speaking it into existence himself, this time. “Hunk, I am taking a goddamn vacation for my anniversary and I’m not gonna take no for an answer.”

“That’s the Keith I know and love,” Hunk says. He reaches out his glass for a toast and Keith enthusiastically clinks their weird, round bottles together. “I’m really happy for you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He can’t stop smiling, but that might have something to do with the very alcoholic fizzy drink that’s making itself known in his body. “It’s gonna be great.”

***

Of course, getting Shiro to take a vacation is much easier said than done. Keith floats the idea while they’re laying in bed together two nights later, fresh off some shower handjobs that were so satisfying Keith wonders if it’s a cry for help. He needs to spend some serious quality time with his husband if mutual handjobs are the most exciting thing in his life now.

(Not that there’s  _ anything _ wrong with handjobs, though. Keith’s just . . . used to a little more spice and a handjob after a week of nothing has only left him hungry for more.)

“Tell me about your dream vacation,” Keith whispers. They’re laying face to face, all three hands between them so Keith can play with Shiro’s fingers in the low light of their bedroom. He loves Shiro’s hand, loves his broad palm and long fingers, and best of all is the wedding ring sitting on his fourth finger. Keith could stare at it on Shiro’s hand for hours. “If you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?”

“Anywhere?” Shiro asks. His voice is sleepy, rumbling out from deep in his chest. “In the whole universe?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a hard question,” Shiro says. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on their hands tangled together. “Guess it depends on what kind of vacation. I’d love to visit Earth again, see the rebuilding and everything that’s still there.” He smiles, a private thing. “I always wanted to see the Seven Natural Wonders. Not sure how many of them are still there after the war, but I bet it’d be easy to do it in a week when you have a spaceship.”

“I never knew you wanted to do stuff like that,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro smiles softly. “It was a big dream of mine before I went to space,” he admits. “I always thought, you know, after I got back from Kerberos but before I was too weak, I wanted to travel all over. Can you believe I’ve never seen the northern lights?”

“I haven’t either,” Keith says.

“It just feels so strange, when we’re up in space, saying that I want to see the aurora on Earth or—or climb to Mount Everest base camp,” Shiro says with a self-deprecating laugh. Keith squeezes his hand in encouragement. “I have the Atlas, I could go anywhere in the universe if I wanted, but I would still love to visit Victoria Falls one day.” He falls quiet for a moment. “It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. I don’t even know how many lightyears away from Earth we are right now.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Keith argues. “It’s—I think that’s beautiful.”

Shiro squeezes his hand in appreciation. “Thanks, Keith.”

“I don’t know when,” Keith says, “or how, but one day, I’m gonna take you to all of them. And it’s gonna take a while to climb Mount Everest, so we’ll probably have to take a couple of vacations to hit them all.”

“You think?” Shiro says. He huffs out a little laugh. “You’d really want to do all that with me?”

“Shiro, I want to do everything with you.”

Shiro’s eyes shine in the dim light. He looks at Keith for so long that Keith wants to ask what’s wrong, but before he can open his mouth, Shiro lets go of his hands. He puts his palm on the back of Keith’s head and pulls him in for a deep, dizzying kiss, body rolling forward so he’s half on top of Keith. Sparks fly through Keith’s whole body, unstoppable, and he eagerly hooks a leg around the back of Shiro’s thighs, surging up to make sure that they don’t have a fraction of space left between them.

The way Shiro kisses him reminds Keith of what it was like to come together for the first time. It’s hot and exploratory, like Shiro is trying to see what makes Keith tick, what makes him open for Shiro like a flower parting its petals to the sun. Keith is alive with it. His hands fist in the back of Shiro’s sleep shirt, clinging hard enough to feel like he’ll never have to leave this moment. Shiro moans into his mouth, teeth dragging over Keith’s bottom lip, and it’s not fair for him to exploit every little thing that makes Keith shiver to pieces in his arms. The hint of teeth, the way Shiro’s gripping his hair too tight to be casual, how he covers Keith with the whole great mass of his body—it’s too much and Keith has to push Shiro away.

Shiro’s confusion only lasts for the second it takes Keith to shove him down onto the bed and climb right on top of him so he can bite at the underside of Shiro’s jaw. He’s got just the right hint of stubble, the scratchy kind that he’ll shave off in the morning, and Keith is aggressive in rubbing his cheek against it.

“Fuck, baby,” Shiro gasps into the air. His hand is burning a brand into Keith’s skin, splayed across the small of his back.

Keith puts his mouth right on the spot where Shiro’s pulse beats in his neck, one long, sucking kiss that’s meant to leave a goddamn mark, and Shiro’s breath wobbles as it leaves him. Keith loves moments like this the most, when there’s nothing to hear between them but the sound of breathing, and when excitement is written into every movement they make. He loves Shiro fiercely and he tries to show that in the way he kisses him, tries to show Shiro that Keith’s love is as tender as it is fiery and that Keith knows what he needs. Keith will take care of him, even if that means kidnapping his husband from his duties for a week so he gets the vacation he rightly deserves.

He’s got plans for Shiro, big plans already swirling in his head, but sitting on top of him like this, Keith can feel that Shiro needs something else at the moment.

Something that only Keith can provide.

***

Twice in one night. Keith doesn’t want to brag or anything but—he’s pretty sure it was his birthday the last time he got twice in one night. And round two is always the exciting one.

So, he’s a little smug the next day.

Smug enough to lounge naked in bed when Shiro’s alarm goes off in the morning, lights turned up much brighter than usual so Keith can watch Shiro put on his uniform. Shiro definitely knows he’s watching because he keeps tossing these flirty little looks over his shoulder and bending over far more than necessary while he pulls his uniform pants on.

God, Keith wants to drag him back to bed and remind his ass what round three is like the morning after.

Sadly, round three is not meant to be, and so Keith has to settle for being half-hard and alone after the reverse striptease of Shiro getting dressed for the day. Keith stares up at the ceiling while Shiro dips into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wonders if it would be weird to pull his favorite vibrator out of the box under the bed now or if he should wait until Shiro leaves. It feels rude to taunt Shiro like that, but Keith is curious to know if he could convince him to push his schedule back a half hour or so. He imagines himself already opened up, Shiro walking back in and taking one look at Keith squirming under the sheets, his face flushed and telling. He’d throw the covers off, drag Keith by his ankles to the edge of the bed, and fuck Keith just like that, fully dressed except for his opened pants.

Keith sighs at himself. Now he’s fully hard  _ and _ a fool for hoping for a quickie when Shiro is practically one foot out the door. Too late and so sad.

Shiro comes around to his side of the bed before he leaves, leaning down to leave his customary kiss on Keith’s forehead. It’s easily one of Keith’s favorite times of day, even when he’s fast asleep for it—he’s been woken up enough times to know that Shiro does this every morning, no matter what.

But Shiro surprises him this morning by sitting on the edge of the bed before he kisses Keith. The fingers of his metal hand gently push Keith’s bangs out of his eyes and cup his face, and the way he looks at Keith is devastating in its own right.

“I love you,” Shiro whispers. His thumb strokes the high point of Keith’s cheek. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Keith replies, bewildered but so, so happy about it.

“I had a dream about us last night,” Shiro says. “We were on a beach somewhere and you kept bringing me these drinks with little umbrellas in them. I had so many umbrellas that the whole beach was covered in them.”

“That’s—that’s a lot of umbrellas,” Keith says and it makes Shiro laugh.

“It was too many umbrellas,” Shiro tells him, a twinkle in his eye. “But it was sweet of you.”

“That’s me.”

Shiro snorts softly and leans down for a kiss. It’s fleeting, just a brush of his lips against Keith’s, but it means so much. “I just think,” Shiro says, “dream Earth vacations aside, anywhere I’m with you is the best place in the world. You always feel special to me. My sweet husband.”

Keith’s heart threatens to beat straight out of his chest.

“Yeah, well,” he says lamely, like his entire face isn’t on fire. “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Shiro says fondly. Then he finally goes in for the forehead kiss. “I’ll see you later, baby. Love you.”

“Love you,” Keith murmurs.

God, he thinks he’s going to explode.

***

Keith walks around that day on cloud nine, so obvious that even Kolivan notices it when they video call to chat about resource allocation for the Blades’ next couple of missions. He tells Kolivan in no uncertain terms that he won’t be joining any of them this time around because he plans to be on vacation, and Kolivan nods in approval. He even promises to pass the news onto Krolia, and the way he says it makes Keith wonder exactly how many of his family members have been gossiping about how much he needs to take a vacation. 

That would be just like them. Nosy assholes.

Of course, now that Keith has verbally committed to two people that he’s going on vacation with his husband, he needs to make it happen. Unfortunately, getting anywhere near Earth on such short notice is probably impossible—he asks Atlas for the exact distance to Earth and Keith has to admit he doesn’t even know how to comprehend how large of a number it is, even in lightyears. They’re  _ very  _ far away.

But that doesn’t mean there are no other options. The dream Shiro told Keith about this morning painted a very specific picture, one that Keith would be remiss to ignore, and so he sets his sights on relatively close planets popular with tourists. His first three tries are a bust; one is a volcanic planet, the next an ice planet, and the final one is known for being the place to go if you’re interested in wrestling vicious wild animals with your bare hands to prove your strength in combat. Keith knows he and Shiro would crush that, but it doesn’t exactly sound like the relaxing vacation he’s envisioning.

The fourth planet is promising, but a deeper investigation reveals that its beautiful oceans are made of liquid methane instead of water, which Keith is pretty sure would skin him alive were he to step foot in it. That won’t work.

Discouraged, Keith takes a break from browsing the intergalactic web to do some actual work. In the back of his mind, he wonders if he knows anyone he could ask—surely Coran would know something, but he works with Shiro on the bridge and is about as good at keeping his mouth shut as he is at mixing drinks. Which is to say he’s terrible at it. Unfortunately, the Atlas is staffed mostly with humans who aren’t likely to have many recommendations. Keith figures they  _ could  _ go to a planet they’ve visited in the past for diplomatic reasons, but that defeats the purpose of exploring a new place together and runs the risk of someone mistaking their visit for official business.

And then Krolia calls.

“Hi, mom,” he greets. The connection is a little shaky but he doesn’t miss Krolia’s pleased nod. She still considers being called  _ mom  _ a special moment.

“Keith,” she says warmly. “Where are you going on vacation?”

Kolivan works fast with gossip. Keith always forgets this—the fearsome leader of the Blades and Coran have a lot more in common than either of them would like to admit.

“I don’t know yet,” Keith says. He fiddles with the transmission frequency and Krolia’s face gets sharper. “It’s kind of hard to find a planet that’s, um, safe for humans.”

“They are more fragile than the average species,” Krolia agrees easily. Keith tries not to take it to heart. “If you do not mind, I have several possibilities I can recommend. I have done much research into this topic.”

“Okay,” Keith says. “Why?”

“In case my son ever decides he is interested in further exploring the universe with me,” Krolia says. The arch of her eyebrow is just slightly scolding. “You are a difficult travel partner to acquire. I hope Shiro appreciates that you are willing to do so with him.”

“Uh, Shiro doesn’t know we’re going yet,” Keith says. He feels mildly chastised, but he honestly had no clue that his mom wanted to vacation with him—he’ll definitely have to make it up to her. “It’s a surprise for our anniversary.”

“Ah.” Krolia nods in approval. “Will you be kidnapping him?”

The casual way she proposes kidnapping as a viable option nearly sends Keith into a coughing fit. Krolia is the only person he knows who makes him understand what people feel when they hear his blunt way of speaking—it’s truly an experience no matter how used to her tone and phrasing he is. 

“I, uh, haven’t decided yet,” Keith says. It’s impossible to keep the smile off his face entirely. “Depending on where we go, I might need him to pack his suitcase.”

“Hm. Make sure you watch him closely, I would hate for him to smuggle work in with him.” Krolia shakes her head in disappointment. “You know I think of Shiro as a second son. That is why I worry about him. He works too much.”

“Trust me, if anyone knows how much Shiro works, it’s me,” Keith says with a sigh. 

“You will both benefit greatly from a break.” Krolia graces him with a rare but beautiful smile. Galra don’t often smile as a way to show affection, but as a parent of a half-human who very much smiles, she makes an attempt to adopt certain mannerisms when she wants to drive a point home. It’s kind of scary, actually, because Keith knows now that it means she wants something and if it doesn’t happen, he’ll be her first target.

He supposes it’s good that this time it’s all in his favor.

“I will send you my list of possible planets,” Krolia promises. “Take care, my son.”

“You too, mom.”

Krolia presses her fist to her chest, a traditional Galra gesture of goodbye, and Keith matches her in turn. The feed cuts out.

Almost immediately, Keith’s inbox pings with a priority message. It’s Krolia’s list. He opens it expecting to see the names of three or four planets and their coordinates, but what greets him is much more extensive. Krolia has ranked twenty-four planets according to some system of her own devising, with notes about why they’ve ranked as they did. 

The first planet on the list is the hand-to-hand combat with wild animals one. Keith isn’t sure how he feels about that.

***

Thankfully, Krolia’s list yields enough help that he doesn’t have to lie to his mother about her helping him. The third to last planet on the list is called Saudera, and it's known for its pristine beaches. Black sands of volcanic rock cover the thousands of tiny islands that make up the planet’s land surface, meeting sparkling blue saltwater underneath a lavender-tinged sky. Saudera is not the native home of any sentient species. Its sister planet has established a few permanent settlements to promote tourism and serve as travel centers, but the majority of inhabitants at any given time are tourists looking for a warm, relaxing vacation. Keith doesn’t want to get too excited this early, but he thinks it might be the perfect planet.

He’s going to cry if this doesn’t work out.

“I figured out where I’m going on vacation,” Keith says to Hunk over lunch in the cafeteria. Shiro was supposed to meet them, but everyone knows that Shiro is impossible to have a whole meal with. He’ll be along eventually to scarf down his lunch in five minutes and then be off. “Look at this.”

Handing over his phone, Keith proudly shows off the photos from the travel agency he’s been investigating. Keith hasn’t checked his bank account in a while, but he’s pretty sure he can afford one of the very secluded cabins for a week without taking much of a hit to his finances. Secluded is nice because Keith doesn’t want to be responsible for dressing himself the majority of the time he’s on vacation and he doesn’t think Shiro should, either. 

“That actually . . . looks amazing, Keith,” Hunk says. “What’s the food like? Don’t tell me it’s good. If it’s good, I swear I’m going with you guys.”

“No way,” Keith says immediately. He knows Hunk is joking. Probably. “I think Shiro’s gonna like it, though, it’s supposed to be great.”

“Yeah, I mean, like, just looking at this hotel cabin thingy? Clearly a sex vacation,” Hunk says casually. Keith’s eyes fly open wide. “That bed is totally not meant for humans but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Please don’t say that,” Keith begs.

“It’s a sexcation,” Hunk says confidently. “I learned that word from Lance.”

“Isn’t that a good reason to never repeat it to anyone?” Keith asks through gritted teeth. He never wants to hear Hunk say  _ sexcation  _ ever again.

“You know I’m right,” Hunk says in that infuriatingly implacable way of his. 

“No.”

“Yup. Sorry, buddy. I’ll take care of Kosmo while you guys are gone. Did you know he has a surprisingly complex palette?”

Keith takes his phone back. That’s enough talk about vacation with literally anyone.

***

Keith’s next problem is pretty much everything else that goes into planning a vacation and quasi-kidnapping. He tries to erase the word sexcation from his brain but it’s not working—he can’t stop imagining Hunk and Lance seriously debating this, and thinking about Lance and sex in the same thirty second span is  _ horrifying. _ Keith would bleach his brain, were that possible. He should check with Pidge.

The issue is that Keith can’t exactly steal Shiro away from his duties without warning and expect him, the Garrison, and the coalition leadership to be okay with that. It could easily backfire to not have anyone know where the Captain of the Atlas disappeared to or when he’ll be back, and Keith doesn’t want to stress Shiro out by leaving him in the lurch with work. What Keith needs is an accomplice. Someone to clear Shiro’s schedule for a set amount of time and serve as the point person while they’re gone to make sure Shiro’s normal duties are taken care of and problems are rerouted to the proper authorities. 

It’s embarrassing how long it takes Keith to realize that he’s thinking of someone a lot like a secretary. 

Maybe even  _ exactly _ a secretary.

Truth is, Keith kind of forgot about Amir the Secretary.

He hasn’t been to Shiro’s office in almost a week now because there’s been a lot of other stuff going on, and Amir is such a new fixture. But time until his wedding anniversary is ticking down, Keith has no positive relationship with Amir, and he needs to swallow his pride and ingratiate himself immediately.

Keith’s first plan is to beg Hunk for a dozen cupcakes, figuring that no one can resist Hunk’s cupcakes. When Hunk looks at him like he’s crazy, Keith begs for a dozen cookies, freshly made. Hunk rolls his eyes. Keith ends up with a lecture that Hunk is not his personal chef, the recipe for chocolate chip cookies, and instructions to only dare message with questions after he checked the recipe by reading the whole thing three times in a row. Keith accepts the bargain and resolves to make a batch for Hunk as an apology.

So Keith bakes his bribe cookies. They come out not terrible.

Even though Keith forgot about Amir, he was clearly not forgotten in return. As Keith enters Shiro’s—well, technically Amir’s—office with his plate of fresh-baked cookies, Amir looks up with his mouth open, ready to do whatever he normally does when someone enters the Captain’s office. But when he sees Keith, his mouth snaps closed and the once over he gives Keith is very telling. Keith is in his orange Garrison uniform today which is also not his finest outfit, but he forgot to put the laundry in yesterday and it’s completely his fault. Still, Garrison orange is a step up from ‘husband’s oversized pajamas,’ so whatever judgment this is, Keith doesn’t deserve it. Every officer has worn this in their lives.

“You’re the one who doesn’t have to follow the rules,” Amir says with the air of someone who has willingly read the entire dictionary and wants you to know it.

“I’m very bad at doing that,” Keith admits. 

Amir sneers, just a little bit. 

Keith had hoped he would be slightly better received than this, but he knows he probably deserves it after basically shoving Amir off of him last time. He’s going to have to grovel. 

“We got off to a bad start,” Keith says. He thrusts the plate of cookies out in front of them, holding it over Amir’s desk. “I, uh, I apologize for last time. It was late and I just wasn’t expecting to meet you. I shouldn’t have been so rude.” Keith holds his breath.

Amir looks at the cookies for a long moment. “I’m gluten intolerant,” he says finally.

“Oh.” Keith pulls the cookies back. He’s not completely sure he knows what gluten is, but his ears burn with embarrassment. Not that he could have possibly known, but—damn. This is not going to get him on Amir’s good side. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were aller—”

“I said  _ intolerant.” _

“Right, intolerant.” Keith cringes at himself. “Shit. Sorry, I really didn’t know.”

“Obviously.”

Awkward silence. Keith hates awkward silences. 

“What if . . . what if I baked you cookies without gluten?” Keith asks hesitantly. He really,  _ really  _ needs Amir to like him.

The look Amir gives him is considering instead of scathing, which is already an improvement in their relationship. “You want something,” he says, every word deliberate. “Tell me what it is.”

Keith deflates.

“I don’t—”

“Look, I have a lot of work to do,” Amir sighs. “So if you’re just gonna stand there and lie to me, you should just leave. This is my job.”

Keith stamps down on the lid of his temper, forcing himself to take a breath.  _ Patience yields focus,  _ he reminds himself. Patience yields cookies without gluten. He needs to have a chat with Hunk about that.

“I just want to—be on your good side,” Keith says. He plasters on his most convincing fake smile and hopes that it works on someone who doesn’t know him. It never works on any of his friends.

“I don’t have a good side,” Amir replies.

Keith scowls.

Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. Keith is doing his absolute best to be thoughtful and apologize and just because he has an ulterior motive doesn’t mean he needs to put up with this kind of attitude. He’s an experienced pilot, diplomat, vigilante, and, like, general leader. And despite his current outfit, Keith is actually the highest-ranking officer in this room; he doesn’t enjoy pulling rank, but it’s his last resort at this point. He doesn’t have forever to negotiate, not when he needs to book his and Shiro’s trip and get the ball rolling. If this is an impossible ask, Keith needs to know now.

“Look,” Keith says. He relaxes as best as he can and forces an even tone out of his mouth. “I want to take Shiro on vacation for our anniversary, but it’s a surprise. Can you just—help me organize his schedule so he can be out of the office for a week without him finding out?”

Amir blinks as Keith holds his breath, counting to five in his head. It feels like forever.

“Okay,” Amir says. “Yes, I can help you with that.”

“Really?” Keith asks, a little taken aback. He’s not upset, not at  _ all,  _ but he didn’t think Amir helping him was possible anymore. 

“Send me the dates,” Amir says with a nod. He’s already turning back to his computer screen. “The only day I can’t clear is the twelfth, so don’t even think about asking for then. Anything else I can take care of. Good?”

“I—yes,” Keith says in wonder. Maybe secretaries are magical, because Keith was expecting this to be a lot harder than Amir makes it sound.

“Will that be all?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Why—why are you helping me?”

“This is literally my job, sir,” Amir says. It’s odd to be called  _ sir _ in a serious, formal tone, but that's just the way Amir speaks. “I was assigned to this post to streamline the captain’s scheduling and communications. Including managing his out of office time.”

Right.

“I will, uh, send you the dates,” Keith says. He takes a step back, slowly backing out of the office because he doesn’t want to destroy the tentative peace he thinks they have now. “Thank you. And I will bake you cookies. No gluten.”

“Mm,” Amir says without looking at him. “I prefer almond flour.”

And then the door slides shut two inches in front of Keith’s nose.

He’s so relieved at a successful negotiation that he just turns and walks away, completely forgetting to poke his head in to say hi to his husband. 

***

Amir turns out to be a better partner in crime than Keith ever could have expected. He's utterly uninterested in the details of Keith's plan and cares only for the logistics of how he needs to organize Shiro's schedule. It becomes apparent very quickly that Shiro does essentially whatever Amir tells him is on his schedule, no questions asked, which infuriates Keith at first. But then he realizes what it truly means—that Shiro's so stressed and overworked that Amir has become the only thing keeping him from putting a fist through his office door. 

Keith appreciates Amir a lot more once he starts to understand that.

He books their trip to Saudera. Amir figures it into Shiro's schedule. Keith teaches himself what gluten is, gets a recipe for chocolate chip cookies made with almond flour, and spends three hours in the kitchen baking the most beautiful plate of cookies he's ever seen. Two dozen gluten-free cookies in hand, Keith delivers them while Amir is on his lunch break. Just because they're friendlier than they were doesn't mean Keith wants to get closer than necessary—theirs is a delicate relationship.

Keith’s schedule is even easier to change. He simply messages everyone he doesn’t care about canceling his meetings and he fakes a scheduling conflict with a Blades mission for everyone he  _ does  _ care about. Everything else he puts on his schedule to complete before he leaves or just push it back. No one can stop him; Keith is on a giant spaceship a bajillion miles away from Earth and the worst they can say is that he’s blunt. 

Anything is worth it to get his vacation. Even putting in a couple of late nights before he leaves.

Shiro, bless his poor heart, remains none the wiser. His late nights ease up slightly, but he continues to work past dinnertime and joins Keith only in the evenings, already completely exhausted from his day. Keith deals with Shiro’s schedule better than he has in the past weeks: having a vacation to look forward to is doing wonders for his overall attitude. Even Shiro notices.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” Shiro asks one night while they’re getting into bed together, just three days before they’re set to leave.

“What do you mean?”

Shiro shrugs as he pulls the covers up to his lap. He’s got his reading glasses on and an ebook in his prosthetic hand, floating just next to the bed and waiting for him to summon it closer. “You’ve just been acting . . . chipper lately,” Shiro explains. “Like something’s different.”

“Chipper?” Keith repeats. “How old are you again?”

“Shut it,” Shiro says. The tips of his ears turn red. “Just answer the question.”

Keith hums, turning on his side to lay on his pillow so he can gaze at Shiro. Would it be weird if he decided to skip playing a game on his phone in order to gaze silently at Shiro until they pass out? Probably. He might try it anyway, especially if it stops Shiro from asking too many questions.

“The ship I’ve been fixing up passed its safety inspection,” Keith says. It’s a good excuse because it’s the truth. “I took it for a short test flight yesterday.”

Shiro’s mouth parts in surprise. “Really? Keith, that’s incredible!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Keith says with a laugh. All of this is true, but between spoiling the surprise of their vacation and the surprise of Keith’s ship, he knows which secret he’d rather give up. “I was gonna take you out in it. Show you a good time.”

Shiro’s left hand reaches out to take Keith’s, squeezing him tightly with a brilliant smile on his face. “I would love that, baby. I’m so proud of you,” Shiro says.

“Thanks,” Keith says, the tail end of the word pressed silent as Shiro leans down for a kiss. 

Keith is no mechanic, but with the patient advice of Hunk, Krolia, Pidge, and a couple of others, he’s proud of what he’s done with his ship. And he’s been extra motivated the past two weeks to get it in tip-top shape, excited by the thought of taking its maiden voyage with his husband.

“My brilliant husband,” Shiro says when he pulls back. He touches Keith’s cheek, the side with the scar, and his eyes are bright with his smile.

“I never thought I’d get this far,” Keith admits. “Being finished kinda snuck up on me.”

“You’ve been working on that ship for over a year,” Shiro says. “That’s a long time.”

“Feels weird to be done.”

“Well,” Shiro says,  _ “I  _ can’t wait til you get it registered with the Garrison and I don’t have to tell them to back off anymore.”

“Shiro, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Keith grumbles.

Laughing, Shiro leans in to kiss the tip of Keith’s nose, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “What?” he asks. “I’ve been covering for your illegal ship for a  _ year,  _ Mr. Shirogane. You’re lucky the captain likes you so much. Unauthorized vessels are a security risk.”

“You’re the worst,” Keith says, planting a hand in the middle of Shiro’s chest and shoving him away playfully. Shiro catches the hand easily, pulling it to his lips to lay a kiss on Keith’s knuckles. It’s so cheesy and Keith scoffs at him, but his fingers have their own agenda, tangling up with Shiro’s to hold his hand tightly because Keith is a hopeless sap who can’t even  _ feign _ displeasure at Shiro. Especially not when moments together like this are so rare.

Shiro doesn’t come back with a snappy retort like Keith expects. Instead, he’s just smiling, his face softening more every second into a look Keith remembers most fondly from their wedding day. 

“What?” Keith asks. If this goes on for much longer, he’s going to start blushing.

“Nothing,” Shiro says. “You’re just so brilliant.”

“Oh my god,” Keith says, turning his face into the pillow so he can’t see Shiro anymore. “Stop talking.”

Shiro laughs again, the most beautiful sound in the world, and he rolls toward Keith. He pulls Keith into his arms to hug him right up against his chest—Keith, with his face now smushed against the soft shirt covering Shiro’s pecs, can’t bring himself to complain. Wriggling forward, Keith sinks into the hug. 

“Tayurshrtof,” Keith says lovingly.

“What?”

Keith has to remove his face from Shiro’s chest to speak up. “Take your shirt off,” he repeats. His hand drops to Shiro’s hip and shoves underneath the offending shirt. He’s not even after anything—Keith had a long day coordinating joint drills between Voltron and the MFE pilots and then spent an hour running around the elevated track in the gym to work off his aggression. There’s nothing more frustrating than trying to convince eight other stubborn pilots to run the same attack formations for hours on end until they’re all so bored they could do it in their sleep. And nothing more comforting than just burying himself into Shiro until he passes out.

“You gotta give me some room, babe,” Shiro murmurs. Keith leans back and tries not to pout while he waits for Shiro to awkwardly wrangle his T-shirt over his head without falling backward out of their bed or knocking his glasses off his face. His glasses end up in his lap anyway.

When the shirt is finally gone, Shiro settles on his back and lets Keith make himself comfortable. Keith ends up with his face smushed inelegantly against the lower part of Shiro’s sternum, arm thrown over Shiro’s stomach. This position is great for them both: Keith gets Shiro’s left arm around his shoulders holding him tight while Keith breathes him in, and Shiro can use his prosthetic to hold the datapad with his ebook over his face. It’s intimate and sweet and Keith can’t stop his eyes from slipping shut and his breathing from mellowing out.

He falls asleep just like that. 

***

The morning of the kidnapping comes quickly.

It takes everything in Keith to not spring out of bed right when Shiro’s alarm goes off. That would be incredibly suspicious because Keith  _ never _ gets out of bed this early, not without a literal emergency, and he’s so close to pulling off this stunt that he can’t help but commit to it fully. While Shiro gets ready in near darkness, Keith pretends to sleep. His body thrums with excited energy as Shiro kisses him on the forehead, and he holds his breath as Shiro leaves their quarters. 

This is so exciting.

Packing their bags gives Keith a rush like no other. Space wolf does his best to help, but his greatest skill is trying to take Keith out at the knees, so he gets his own kiss on the forehead and a firm order to go bother someone else for an hour. Keith steals Shiro’s toiletries out of the bathroom cabinet and carefully selects for him a week’s wardrobe that consists almost entirely of tight joggers, slouchy-necked shirts, and Shiro’s single pair of sandals that haven’t left the bottom of the closet in at least a year. He packs snacks, drinks, towels, and a single datapad containing Shiro’s ebooks. Keith doesn’t want to bring the datapad but he knows in his heart that Shiro deserves to read while laying out on the beach; he’ll just have to monitor Shiro closely to make sure he’s not sneaking in any work.

It’s very cathartic to put the two swimsuits Keith bought for him right on top of the rest of his clothes and zip the duffle bag closed. Shiro is lucky they aren’t thongs—sadly, they will cover his whole ass and down to mid-thigh. Keith will just have to imagine what could have been and, maybe, while they’re at the beach he can talk Shiro into acquiring a wider variety of swimsuits for all the vacations Keith wants to take him on now. 

Keith’s got some other things, though, that definitely won’t cover anyone’s ass. Soft and silky things, some of them more ridiculous than others, but he hopes that Shiro will be happy to try some of them on for Keith’s sake. For both their sake, honestly—Keith bought nearly everything in two sizes for a reason.

Keith tosses an industrial-sized bottle of lube into his bag and follows it closely with a carefully curated selection of toys. He’s got a full set of bondage cuffs, his favorite vibrator, Shiro’s favorite vibrator, normal plugs, a double-ended dildo, some funky nipple things Keith wants to torture Shiro with, Keith’s collar, a selection of gags, some rope, one leash, two blindfolds, Keith’s favorite whip, and finally four new sets of anal beads Keith bought because Shiro’s been wanting to try them for forever and Keith likes to keep his possibilities open. 

He doesn’t even think  _ sexcation. _

Is that enough? No, wait, that’s a crazy pile of sex toys, Keith shouldn’t bring them all. They can’t possibly use them all in a week. He hesitantly touches the cord of rope, wondering if he should take it out but—no. No, at the very least, they’ll have _options._

Satisfied with his choices, Keith zips up his bag. He’s all set to tote their bags to the hangar when he remembers he forgot Shiro’s special officer’s jacket. It’s special because it’s the one with irreversible stains all over the front of it, and Keith would be very remiss to forget an object that’s so important to him personally.

All told, it only takes him about two and a half hours to pack up everything they could possibly need for a calming but also sex-fueled tropical vacation. Keith’s bag ends up suspiciously heavy, but who’s gonna have a problem?

This is too easy. Keith should look into kidnapping his husband more often.

***

The ruse is simple. After Shiro’s scheduled lunch with a visiting dignitary, Keith pops around to Shiro’s office, greeting Amir with a real smile to show his appreciation for all the help he’s been. Keith gets a simple, polite nod in return, but he considers it a moment of real growth in their relationship.

“Alright,” Keith says. “Hopefully I won’t see you for a while.”

Amir snorts. “Enjoy your vacation,” he says, already disinterested and turning back to his work. “I know I will.”

Classic Amir. Keith had his doubts at first, but he has to admit now that Shiro was right when he first said Keith would like him. Amir is blunt and competent and does not take shit from Keith or anyone else—and Keith identifies with that. He sees a future of possibilities for all the ways Amir can help him, so Keith is going to get very good at baking with almond flour.

Keith makes his way into Shiro’s office with a confident stride. “Hey, Shiro? Got a minute?”

“For you, always,” Shiro says, half to himself. He puts his finger on the screen of the datapad on his desk to hold his place where he was reading. “What’s up, baby?”

“There’s a, uh, weird situation in the hangar,” Keith says. That was less than subtle. He clasps his hands together behind his back, otherwise he’s going to just pick Shiro up and start running. “I really think you need to come check it out.”

“A situation?” Shiro rises half out of his seat. “What happened? Is anyone hurt?”

“It was a minor incident.” Keith licks his lips. He needs to sell this but he’s  _ so  _ bad at lying to Shiro specifically. “A  _ minor _ crash.”

“Shit, okay.” 

Shiro is so trusting. So, so sweet and trusting as he hurries along behind Keith on the way to the hangar, asking questions about what happened and receiving Keith’s very much made-up answers about a runway collision. Keith hopes it looks like he’s almost running because he’s worried and not because he’s so stupidly excited. He’s riding high on the thought of pulling this off.

They reach the hangar. Shiro turns in every direction, clearly searching for the problem, but there’s nothing to be found across the whole length of the massive room and all the ships docked within it, mechanics going about their normal duties. No crashed ships or panicking officers or fires to put out, literal or metaphorical. Nothing weird except Keith pulling Shiro in for a hug, arms wrapping around Shiro’s waist. Shiro huffs in confusion and he starts to say something, but Keith cuts him off by bending his knees, leaning forward, and  _ lifting. _

He throws Shiro over his shoulder like a sack of flour. 

“Keith!”

“This is for your own good, Shiro,” Keith says loudly so Shiro can hear him over his protests. He refuses to respond to a single argument and marches toward his ship.

Keith’s hold on him is not the most secure carry he’s ever executed, but the situation itself is so shocking to Shiro that he’s not trying to escape. He keeps wiggling around and asking what’s going on but the tone of his voice is bewildered and stunned instead of angry or hurt, so Keith feels fine about patting Shiro on the back of his thigh as they climb the ramp that leads into Keith’s ship.

Keith only lets him down once the ramp is closed behind them and there’s officially no escape.

“Keith,” Shiro says, “what the hell is happening?”

“This is a kidnapping,” Keith says with a grin. He reaches for the hem of Shiro’s gray Garrison uniform jacket and tugs it down to straighten out the wrinkles. “Welcome to my ship, captain.”

“You could have just told me you wanted me to come see it,” Shiro says. He’s getting a little huffy but Keith  _ did _ just pick him up in public with no explanation, so he’s willing to forgive. Shiro will come around once he understands.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Keith says. He beams at Shiro, unable to stop himself. “You ready to take a trip?”

Shiro sighs. “I guess I can take my lunch early,” he says. 

Oh, it feels so good to know something that Shiro doesn’t. This is about to be the longest lunch break of Shiro’s life and he’ll find out eventually, but Keith wants to be well away from the Atlas before he breaks the news.

“I packed plenty of food,” Keith assures him. 

“Did you?” The last dregs of annoyance melt off Shiro’s face. His prosthetic arm floats closer to Keith and hooks in the belt loop of his jeans, tugging him closer, and Keith can’t resist getting closer. Keith’s hands land on Shiro’s chest and Shiro pulls him in by the hips, turning Keith to the left so he can push Keith up against the wall. Keith licks his lips—there’s nothing he loves more than Shiro’s broad body hemming him in.

“Hi,” Keith breathes.

“Hey,” Shiro murmurs. The corners of his lips start to curl up in a smile. “I decided I’m gonna be mad at you later for lying to me.”

“I’m hoping it’s romantic enough you’ll forget all about my bad storytelling,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro snorts. “Our anniversary isn’t for another three days. What are you up to?”

“Who says I have to be up to anything?”

“Something about the surprise deep space picnic feels like a plot,” Shiro says, swaying even closer to Keith so that his handsome face is all Keith can see. “I do think it’s awfully romantic of you, though. Best lunch date ever.”

Keith’s heart flutters but he refuses to let his swooning show on his face. He doesn’t remember why he doubted that Shiro would remember their anniversary but hearing the confirmation in Shiro’s words soothes something inside him. He never should have expected less. Tilting his chin up for a kiss, Keith relaxes against Shiro’s chest, welcoming Shiro’s mouth on his own and the hands that slide shamelessly over his ass.

When the kiss breaks, Keith is breathless. Shiro has this power over him, the ability to turn any touch into the most electric thing Keith has ever felt. It’s so distracting that Keith almost forgets why they’re here.

“Will you—will you be my copilot?” Keith asks. He stares deep into Shiro’s dark eyes, hypnotized.

“Always, baby,” Shiro promises.

Always and forever.

With a sudden rush of need, Keith grabs Shiro’s face between his hands and pulls him down for another long kiss, nipping at Shiro’s bottom lip until he makes room for Keith’s tongue to push into his mouth. Shiro submits and heat gathers low in Keith’s belly, irresistible and exciting. 

Keith doesn’t break the kiss until he needs air. “Fuck,” he whispers. He’s pretty sure just the thought of the impending but still secret vacation is making him horny.

“I’m starting to think you didn’t drag me here for just a picnic,” Shiro murmurs. He hitches his thigh forward to press it against the front of Keith’s pants, and Keith is unmistakably half hard already. Judging by the hungry look on Shiro’s face, he’s hardly the only one dealing with that problem. 

“Maybe,” Keith says. “But we gotta take a ride first.”

“Yeah?” Shiro grins real wide.

“Yup.” Even if Keith didn’t have ulterior motives, he’s done no research on how soundproof his ship is and he doesn’t want to test that now while they’re in a busy hangar. 

Keith can’t resist one last, quick kiss, but he uses all his strength to slide away from Shiro so they don’t get distracted again. The little pout Shiro gives him makes it harder, but Keith reminds himself pointedly that they have something of a schedule to keep; he wants to show up on time to check-in to their cabin and not a second later. Valuable beach time shouldn’t go to waste.

“C’mon, copilot,” Keith calls over his shoulder as he practically skips to the cockpit. “Let’s roll.”

He doesn’t miss the fond look Shiro gives him.

Keith’s ship isn’t anything super special, at least not at face value. It’s not the fastest or the biggest or the newest, but the engine is in good shape and the structure of the ship is perfect for what Keith wanted to use it for. It used to be a cargo ship but Keith has no desire to haul cargo, so he spent some time renovating the storage hold into a tiny living quarters big enough to fit two people comfortably. The cockpit was the most difficult part of the renovation because he had to change out everything for hardware that could work for a human.

Now, the controls are sleek and new. The navigational systems are fully translated from Galran into English because Keith’s nearly useless when it comes to parsing the Galran alphabet. His speaking skills are coming along, but reading is just far too much work.

It’s also possible Keith custom ordered extra wide memory foam seats with built-in lumbar support. 

“This is amazing, Keith,” Shiro says as he settles in next to Keith. “I know this isn’t the first time I’ve seen it, but—wow, feels different when you’re actually about to take it out, huh?”

Keith can’t stop his chest from puffing up with pride. “First real flight,” he says, grinning at Shiro. “We could go anywhere.”

Shiro laughs. His smile makes his whole face light up, and that in turn makes Keith’s heart flutter. He can’t wait to spend a week with Shiro completely uninterrupted so that he can make Shiro laugh like that until he complains of his ribs hurting from it. 

“Take us away, flyboy,” Shiro says. The way he looks at Keith is almost unbearable.

“Alright,” Keith breathes. He flashes a grin and hopes it looks steadier than he feels. “Here we go.”

He starts the engines. They come to life with a rich hum, nothing too loud but Keith still makes a mental note to check the sound dampeners. He wants his ship to be as silent as can be and there’s definitely room for improvement. Slowly, Keith eases her into the air. Through the window at the nose of the ship, he watches the ground of the hangar fall away, and once he’s up above the rest of the docked ships, he carefully accelerates toward the airlock at the end of the room. 

“Smooth ride,” Shiro says approvingly.

“I spent a week calibrating the controls,” Keith tells him. No one can prove he’s bragging. “They used to be absolute shit.”

“Beautiful.” Shiro runs a curious hand over the dashboard. “Is it weird that watching you fly the ship you rebuilt is turning me on?”

Keith’s face flushes red.

“Hm. Yeah, this is doing it for me,” Shiro teases as Keith guides them into the airlock. Keith is a very experienced pilot and it takes a  _ lot _ to truly distract him, but—he admits that he hits the brakes a little too hard to stop them from crashing into the door. 

“Stop that,” Keith mutters, but he doesn’t mean it in the least. 

The way Shiro laughs is even more devastating, the sound of it low and rich and pleased. Slowly the airlock opens in front of them, and unfamiliar constellations glitter across the open depths of space. The sight of it always pricks something primal within Keith, something that’s not altogether different from arousal, and it only gets worse when Shiro says, “I can’t wait to blow you in the pilot’s seat.”

Keith punches the acceleration with a heavy hand and the ship rockets forward. His face is flushed red and he refuses to acknowledge it.

They leave the Atlas behind. They’re about twenty-two hours away from Saudera, if all goes well, and Keith thinks that it’s going to be a  _ very  _ long trip so long as Shiro spends it gazing at him with such heavy-lidded eyes. Keith licks his lips and takes a deep breath, throwing a sidelong glancing at Shiro. 

He has to tell Shiro the truth but it’s so hard to concentrate when Shiro looks at him like  _ that,  _ when he’s turning on the charm because he knows Keith is weak for him.

“Fuck,” Keith mutters under his breath.

“Yes, please,” Shiro says.

“I—oh my god, stop looking at me like that,” Keith grumbles. “I have to fly the ship.”

“We’re far enough away from Atlas now,” Shiro says, his tone smug and entirely too flirty for Keith to handle. Not getting laid regularly makes him very easy, apparently. “You can park it anywhere you want.”

“We have somewhere to be,” Keith maintains weakly.

Shiro’s prosthetic hand floats over to Keith and lands heavy on his thigh, thumb not so casually rubbing at the inseam of Keith’s jeans. It’s very distracting and it does nothing to help the situation happening with Keith’s dick.

“I was promised a sexy picnic after the kidnapping,” Shiro says. Keith knows he’s barely holding back a giggle. “We’re not gonna have time for the picnic part if we have to fly much further.”

“Trust me,” Keith says, “we have plenty of time.”

“Oh, yeah? Where are we going, then?”

This is it. This is Keith’s big reveal. He just hopes that Shiro isn’t going to be  _ too  _ mad at him, not when his voice is teasing and lighter than Keith has heard from him in weeks.

“Computer,” Keith says, “display destination.”

A holographic screen flickers to life above the dashboard. It cycles through several pictures of Saudera—the beaches, the sea, and a rotating globe displaying topography. To the right, on Shiro’s side of the ship, a data readout lists the travel time, coordinates, and expected time of arrival. Keith holds his breath until Shiro reads that part.

“I don’t understand,” Shiro says. There’s genuine confusion in his voice.

Keith doesn’t respond, choosing instead to give Shiro space to process what he’s seeing. Shiro falls silent for a long moment and his grip on Keith’s thigh relaxes as the gears turn in his brain, working through the information in front of him. His only comfort is that while Shiro’s been grumpy, he’s never been outright  _ mad _ at Keith before, not even that time Keith tripped over space wolf’s tail and accidentally dumped an entire plate of spaghetti in his hair. He’s just gotta get Shiro to work past the initial shock and then they can enjoy their vacation together.

“Keith,” Shiro says. His tone is serious. “I really have to get back to the office this afternoon.”

“Well,” Keith says. This is the moment it could all go very, very wrong. With a flick of a switch, he toggles on the ship’s autopilot system so he can turn to face Shiro. “The thing is, Shiro . . . you’re not going back to the office today.”

“I’m—what?”

“I said this was a kidnapping,” Keith says slowly. “It’s, uh, technically a nine-day kidnapping. So you can go back to the office in nine days.”

Shiro's face goes through many emotions.

There's some anger there, which Keith is glad to see doesn’t last for very long, and he flashes through confusion, more anger, the fond, exasperated look he reserves for Keith, and finally settles on . . . panic.

Panic?

"Shiro?" Keith asks, concerned. "You okay?"

Shiro closes his eyes. "Keith. You know I love you very much," he says tightly. "But I have work. I have meetings scheduled and deadlines to meet and you can't just—kidnap me. If I don't get back—"

"Don't worry about that," Keith says. He smiles encouragingly. "Do you know what meetings you're missing?"

"Well, no," Shiro says slowly. "Amir schedules them so I can focus on more pressing things. But that doesn't mean I can just  _ leave,  _ you know.”

Keith crosses the fingers of his left hand and tucks them under his thigh so Shiro can’t see him. "But could you leave if I told you that I had Amir rearrange your schedule to make room for a vacation so you don't miss anything and no one has a problem with you being gone?" he asks in a rush. 

Shiro’s jaw drops in disbelief. 

“Because that’s actually what I did. For our anniversary,” Keith explains. “I don’t think Amir likes me, by the way, but he’s really good at his job.”

“Are you serious?” Shiro demands.

“Yeah, he had your whole schedule rearranged in like two hours once I told him when I wanted to go,” Keith says with an awkward laugh. “You should keep him. But maybe tell him to be nicer to me? Unless you’re mad at me too, which, uh.” Hunk’s tendency to ramble about semi-unrelated topics when he’s nervous has, sadly, rubbed off on Keith during their years of friendship and it’s coming on strong now. Keith forces himself to shut up for the greater good.

“Oh,” Shiro says faintly, slumping back in his seat. He doesn’t say anything so Keith decides to keep quiet and let him process. So far, Shiro’s reaction hasn’t been  _ too _ upset—Keith hopes that it stays that way and that they don’t have to argue about this. He honestly just wanted to give Shiro a break, to give them  _ both _ a break, and he only hopes that Shiro can understand how badly he needs a true break. The concept feels utterly foreign after so many years fighting and working and putting on a strong face for the good of the Coalition, but that doesn’t make either of them any less deserving.

Silently, Keith pulls up pictures of the cabin he booked them. It’s a semi-circular structure built from rocks cemented together underneath a smooth metal roof shaped like a short dome. On the ocean-facing side, floor to ceiling windows look out across a cement patio with an in-ground hot tub and chairs that Keith can’t wait to sit in with Shiro to watch the sunset every evening. He made sure to get a cabin that faces southeast for that exact purpose. And the best feature of the cabin is that the  _ next _ cabin is half a mile down the shore and almost completely obscured by the curling trunks and flat, broad leaves of the hardy trees that have managed to grow in the inhospitable soil. They could be naked in the ocean and no one would even know.

It’s far smaller and simpler than some of the veritable mansions Keith had browsed through. Neither he nor Shiro are comfortable surrounded by extraordinary luxury—they don’t need furniture carved from precious materials or a hot tub that overlooks a swimming pool that overlooks an ocean. 

No, Keith settled for  _ just _ the hot tub.

“I’m not mad,” Shiro murmurs eventually. That does make Keith feel a lot better. “I just—why didn’t you tell me? If I knew you wanted this, I would have helped you plan it.”

Keith licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “If I had told you,” he says quietly, “that I wanted us to take a week off work completely, would you have agreed? Or would you have tried to negotiate it down to three days? Or a week, but only if we go somewhere you can take calls all day long?”

“I—” But Shiro cuts himself off. His expression struggles to settle on a single emotion. “Okay. You’re right. I definitely wouldn’t have agreed to a week.”

It’s a relief to hear this one concession.

“I am sorry, though,” Keith says with sincerity. He throws Shiro a wry smile, finds him gazing at Keith with one of his inscrutable expressions. It looks a lot like love. “Not for the kidnapping, but . . . I hate keeping secrets from you.”

The thumb of Shiro’s prosthetic hand taps gently at Keith’s thigh. He almost jumps from surprise—he had completely forgotten it was there, and Shiro snorts with amusement because he knows how to read Keith. “I wouldn’t expect you to apologize for whisking me away,” Shiro tells him. He lapses into a silence that Keith holds back from interrupting because it feels contemplative and anticipatory.

“I don’t know,” Shiro says quietly. “Maybe I have been working too much. I haven’t been a very good husband lately.”

“Shiro—”

“No, it’s true,” Shiro interrupts. He’s firm this time instead of wondering. “I see you for, what, an hour every night? And I haven’t taken a weekend in months.” He sighs heavily. “We need to come up with a better system for this.”

Keith frowns slightly as he carefully adjusts their flight trajectory to avoid a rogue asteroid hurtling too close to their flight path. “A system?” he asks.

“You shouldn’t have to feel like kidnapping me is your only option,” Shiro explains. “We need a—a signal, to tell each other when we need a break.”

“You wanna have a safeword for the workplace?” Keith asks dryly.

Shiro laughs, a little self-deprecating but there’s real humor there too. “I don’t see how it could hurt,” he says. His hand moves on Keith’s thigh, slight enough that from an outside point of view it might be mistaken for an involuntary twitch, but Keith feels how it inches higher with purpose. It’s impossible to ignore. Shiro’s voice drops low and he adds, “They’ve worked out well for us in the past.”

Keith breathes out a long, controlled exhale. “Are you too horny to be mad at me or something?” he mutters, only half meaning it.

But Shiro answers honestly: “Yes.”

What Keith intends to do is throw his hands in the air and drag Shiro back to the bed in the renovated cargo hold, but the ship has other ideas. A warning sign in bright green Galran script flashes over the pictures of Saudera on screen. It takes Keith’s brain a second to catch up—apparently, he still has some glitches to iron out in the translation system—but thankfully it contains a single word he recognizes on sight.

“Asteroid field,” Keith says. “Damn.”

“Need any help?” Shiro asks, his tone all business now as he retracts his hand from Keith’s thigh. Keith mourns what could have been.

“I don’t think so,” Keith answers with a sigh. His eyes skate over the radar scans of the upcoming obstacles, mentally calculating their flight path. The ship’s autopilot could get them through without issue, but it would be much slower and Keith likes a challenge every now and then when he’s flying. Technically, it would be much more efficient for him to take the controls. “Looks pretty small. I should be okay to—”

A loud, grumbling noise from Shiro’s side of the cockpit cuts Keith off. Utter silence but for the hum of the ship around them follows it, and when Keith chances a glance at Shiro, he finds him with both hands over his stomach and a red blush on the high points of his cheeks.

“Was that . . . .” Keith starts.

“I didn’t eat a lot for breakfast,” Shiro says quickly. “God, that’s embarrassing.”

Keith can’t help but grin widely. “You should go get the food I packed,” he says as he eases the nose of the ship up to slip over the crest of a gigantic asteroid and then slip between two smaller ones. It feels so good to fly  _ his _ ship through the outer edges of a sparse asteroid field—this isn’t even a challenge for Keith but just knowing he made this possible on his own merit makes his heart race with excitement. Unchallenging doesn’t mean it won’t be fun. “I’ll get us through this and after we eat we can, uh. Do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Shiro asks. He stands up and walks behind Keith’s chair, leaning down so his breath ghosts over the side of Keith’s hair, close to his ear. “You sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Keith leans away from Shiro’s face because it’s too damn distracting.

“Well, I thought since you’re the one who kidnapped  _ me,  _ you’re supposed to have your wicked way with your prisoner.” Shiro kisses the top of Keith’s head and hums, sounding sly. “Unless you’d rather I punish you for your bad behavior.”

Keith can’t control the way he inhales, quick and sharp, and Shiro doesn’t miss it. 

“Hold on tight while you’re back there,” Keith says quickly, trying his best to cover it up. “I don’t know how bumpy it’s gonna get.”

“Hm. I’ll take all of that under advisement,” Shiro murmurs.

And with that cryptic statement, he disappears into the back of the ship to hunt down lunch. Keith takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat to a more comfortable position. He’s more than a little shocked how well Shiro is taking this—Keith was expecting Shiro to yell a little, or worse, bring out his  _ I’m disappointed but understanding _ voice, which is the worst thing to face from his husband. The threat of Shiro’s anger doesn’t hold a candle to the reality of his quiet dissatisfaction. 

But surprisingly, there is none of that in Keith’s life right now. No, Shiro seems playful and cautiously excited and maybe just a little bit like he’s been unwilling to admit to himself how much he needed a break until the choice was taken out of his hand. And that’s something Keith won’t feel guilty for. If what Shiro needs is a bullheaded husband to strongarm him into taking better care of himself, well. It’s a damn good thing he married Keith.

And Keith needs to get his head in the game because he’s currently navigating a very unstable group of rocks floating aimlessly in space. They’re never going to relax if Keith doesn’t get them through this.

Good thing Shiro also married one of the best pilots to ever come from Earth.

Dodging asteroids like this reminds Keith of piloting the Black Lion in battle, only with much lower stakes. They’re just as unpredictable as enemy fire but Keith is far too good to so much as clip a wing against one of them. He does lazy loops around an oddly square rock and then flies straight through one shaped like a donut, having far too much fun with how easily his ship responds to every touch. It’s almost as intuitive as flying the lions, except instead of a psychic connection bonding Keith to this ship, it’s just the sheer amount of work he put into customizing it to his exact specifications. Everything is engineered to match exactly what Keith wants in a ship, to flow with him easily, to fit his hands and his intuition. And it feels damn good to hook a left out of nowhere and fall into a dizzying tailspin to avoid crashing into a massive asteroid. The ship quivers beneath him, the gravity stabilizers working overtime to readjust, and Keith just  _ laughs. _

“What the hell is going on out there?” Shiro calls out.

“Sorry!” Keith shouts. “I told you to hold on.”

“Little punk,” Shiro says, just loud enough for Keith to hear. 

Keith does a loop in retaliation. It’s not a tight enough circle for the change in momentum to knock Shiro off his feet, Keith’s not that mean, but the ship definitely makes the change in direction known.

Oh, Keith loves to fly. 

Sadly, he’s just about reached the edges of the asteroid field and run out of obstacles to treat like a training course. It’s good timing, though, as he hears the hiss of the door to the living quarters slide shut as Shiro re-enters the cockpit.

"So that was fun," Shiro announces.

"Fun?" Keith asks absently. He checks the computer’s travel plan from their current point to Saudera and finds it acceptable. They should arrive exactly when Keith hoped they would.

"I found some very interesting things in your bag," Shiro says lightly. 

Keith freezes.

“I’m starting to think you had less than honorable intentions dragging me out here,” Shiro teases. “All those toys, baby?” 

“Um,” Keith says. He starts to twist around in his chair to look at Shiro, but two hands land on his shoulders to keep him in place. It’s unfortunate but the combination of embarrassment and Shiro’s stronghold on him makes his dick twitch in his pants. 

“You went shopping,” Shiro murmurs. “At first I thought it was all for you, but . . . then I realized not everything was in your size. Is there something you’re not telling me, baby?” He digs his thumbs into the apex of Keith’s shoulders, almost like a massage. “Some secret kink?”

“I—” Keith says, but he doesn’t know what to say. He’s blushing furiously; it hadn’t been his plan for Shiro to poke through the toys on his own, mostly because there are a couple of things in there that he’s never even talked to Shiro about. He doesn’t even understand the logistics of a double-ended dildo but the thought of having something inside him while listening to the sound of Shiro gasping in shock the way he always does when he’s getting fucked is . . . tempting. And the underwear is, for lack of a better description, completely uncharted territory. Keith doesn’t exactly think Shiro would  _ laugh _ at him for buying them, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to put on some lacy, skimpy thing just so Keith could drool over him a bit.

Shiro leans down and kisses the top of Keith’s head. “I can’t believe the man who packed that bag is too shy to tell me he wants to see me wear lingerie.” 

“Stop making fun of me,” Keith whines.

“Baby, I would never.” Shiro tightens his hold on Keith’s shoulders. “Is the ship in autopilot?”

With a flick of a button, Keith says, “It is now.”

Without a second to waste, Shiro whirls around Keith’s chair, swinging a leg over his lap and settling right in. Keith’s brain promptly flatlines out of shock because this is—this is not what Shiro looked like just a few short minutes ago. Not at all.

“Oh,” Keith whispers.

“You like them?” Shiro asks. He has a shit-eating grin on his face.

Keith’s jaw appears to have fallen to the floor and he doesn’t want to bother picking it back up. Shiro is—he’s mostly naked. That’s distracting enough on its own, the sharp lines of his collarbones and the swell of his chest and the dark hair leading down his toned abs. Keith is strong, sure, but not strong enough to drag his eyes away from the underwear Shiro has on.

They’re sort of like boyshorts, Keith supposes is the word for them, pastel pink and ruffled. They hug every single curve of Shiro’s half-hard dick, tucked to the left so the tip doesn’t poke out and ruin the illusion of them fitting. Strong thighs covered in baby-soft black hair sprawl shamelessly over Keith’s lap and it’s clear that Shiro hasn’t spared a single thought on anything like embarrassment. The color is perfect on him, the fit snug without the elastic cutting into his skin, and Keith is in shock trying to process what it is for all of Shiro’s strength to be on display against such delicately stitched ruffles.

His mouth waters. 

“Looks—looks good,” Keith wheezes.

“You haven’t even seen my ass in them yet,” Shiro says smugly. “They’re soft, though. Wanna feel?”

Keith has, in fact, already felt them when he packed his bag and when they came in the mail, but that’s in the past now and he doesn’t have the brainpower right now to pull up the memory. Clearly, the only answer is to feel them on Shiro’s body, but he can’t seem to make his hands land on Shiro’s hips. They hover there just out of reach because Keith doesn’t quite want to ruin the moment, too caught up in the perfect image of Shiro’s body. 

Keith wants to lick him. Just, like, in general, but especially right now. 

Shiro has to physically grab Keith by the hand to get him to quit stalling, pressing Keith’s palm flat against Shiro’s hip. And once he’s started to touch, Keith can’t quite stop. He drags his fingertips along the waistband, edging along the line of skin and fabric so lightly that Shiro’s abs twitch. He’s ticklish on his belly sometimes, not that he ever likes to admit it. Breath caught in his throat, Keith traces the shape of Shiro’s cock next, looking impossibly thick and like it couldn’t possibly be contained by such a thin fabric.

“They’re—they’re really soft,” Keith breathes. He finally drags his gaze up to Shiro’s face. Shiro’s eyes are dark and the corners of his lips are curled up into a dangerous smile.

“I saw a pair just like this in your bag, but they were black,” Shiro murmurs. “Those were in your size, weren’t they?”

“Y-yeah.”

Shiro hums, pleased, and his hips rock forward into Keith’s hand. “Are you going to be good for me and put them on when we get to where we’re going?” Shiro asks. “I’m not sure I should allow you to wear anything else this week. As punishment for kidnapping me, of course.”

“Fuck, Shiro—”

“I like these very much,” Shiro says wickedly. “I can’t wait to see what else you brought for us to play with.”

He doesn’t give Keith a chance to respond to that. Rocking forward, Shiro wraps his right hand around the back of Keith’s neck and pulls him into a deep kiss, not a single breath of hesitation between them. Keith kisses him back hungrily, his hands grabbing Shiro by the hips and dragging him forward so that Shiro can grind his cock against Keith’s belly. Keith doesn’t need to look at him anymore.

Shiro huffs a little breath of laughter into his mouth. “Greedy boy,” he murmurs, biting at Keith’s bottom lip in that rough way Keith loves.

“Not my fault,” Keith gasps as Shiro’s mouth falls to his neck. “We haven’t—haven’t had sex in  _ ages.” _

“Mm,” Shiro hums into his neck. “I was sad about that, but now I’m thinking it’s a good thing.” A bruising kiss marks the side of Keith’s throat, Shiro’s mouth working over him without a hint of the composure they usually have to work so hard at. Keith can’t remember the last time Shiro was free to suck marks into his skin like this, shameless and too excited to restrain himself. 

“G-good?” Keith asks. His voice comes out too high-pitched to be natural.

“Gonna be a lot easier to fuck you for the next seven days when I’m pent up like this,” Shiro says as he laces his fingers into the back of Keith’s hair and tugs his head sharply to the side to get at the other side of his neck. “All that extra Galra stamina—it’s like you’re cheating.”

“Shiro—oh, fuck,” Keith gasps. He can’t hold back from digging his nails into the skin of Shiro’s back when Shiro bites down again. He loves a hint of teeth, and the only thing better is a  _ lot  _ of teeth.

“Do you remember what I promised you earlier, baby?” Shiro whispers into his ear. His fingers sneak underneath the hem of Keith’s shirt to touch his belly and Keith wishes dearly that Shiro would just pull the damn shirt over his head. Fuck clothing forever, or at least until they board the Atlas again and Keith is forced into compliance.

“N-no,” Keith stutters, his answer delayed so much that he nearly forgot Shiro asked him a question at all.

Shiro laughs against his skin. “I said I was going to suck you off right here,” he reminds Keith. “I want to make sure you think of me every time you pilot this ship.”

“That’s not—not going to be hard,” Keith says with a breathless laugh. 

“I know,” Shiro says smugly. He kisses the hollow behind Keith’s ear. “But I think afterward I’ll fuck you over the control panel, just to make sure I drive the lesson home. That work for you, baby?”

Keith swallows thickly. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.”

Shiro slithers off Keith’s lap with far more grace than a man of his size should rightly have, slipping easily to his knees between Keith’s legs. Keith stares with wide eyes—Shiro’s cock is fully hard now and it’s absolutely impossible for the underwear to contain him like this. The red-flushed tip shines with wetness and Keith aches with how badly he wants to taste it.

“Hey, you,” Shiro says. He’s grinning, his hands sliding up the insides of Keith’s thighs. “Take your shirt off for me, yeah?”

Keith scrambles to obey, chucking the offending T-shirt halfway across the cockpit in his excitement. His wedding ring bounces against the center of his chest.

“Good boy,” Shiro whispers. His metal hand presses against Keith’s belly, fingers spread wide to hold him in place while Shiro’s left hand toys with the button of Keith’s jeans. “God, I can’t remember the last time I got my mouth on you.”

“Me neither,” Keith admits. “Miss sucking you off, too.”

“Maybe later,” Shiro says. He pops the button open and pulls down Keith’s zipper all in one deft move. “I can’t give you everything you want all at once.”

Keith moans, unable to answer because now Shiro has his hand in Keith’s pants, squeezing his cock. It’s as overwhelming as if Keith hasn’t been touched in months. 

“You’re this hard and I haven’t even gotten a hand on your dick until now,” Shiro says, grinning in approval. “You’re not gonna last very long, are you, baby? Gonna come right down my throat as soon as I get my mouth on you?”

“I’m gonna last just fine,” Keith bites out. He can’t let Shiro know that just Shiro’s hand rubbing at him over his underwear is enough to put him on edge. It’s not his fault that Shiro is being  _ very  _ sexy right now.

“Baby,” Shiro coos. He’s so fucking  _ smug. _

“Come on, Shiro,  _ please,”  _ Keith begs. He doesn’t whine but it’s damn close. “Just stop teasing me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it when I do,” Shiro says with a laugh, but he still relents.

Shiro urges Keith to lift his hips up so that Shiro can hook his fingers in the waistband of Keith’s underwear and jeans and tug them sharply down to the middle of his thighs, exposing his achingly hard cock. The way Shiro’s gaze zeros in on it immediately does wonders for Keith’s self-esteem.

Normally, this would be prime time for Shiro to tease Keith a little more, to ghost his breath over the head of Keith’s cock and look up at Keith from under his eyelashes, taunting. Today, though, Shiro doesn’t so much as pause before he leans forward and wraps his lips around the head, licking the wetness gathered there off the tip and moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Keith moans too loud for this little bit of stimulation, but it truly is the biggest relief to get Shiro’s mouth on him—it’s everything he’s missed and craved.

Shiro’s mouth sinks down the length of his cock and Keith’s thighs tense with the urge to thrust into it. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks hard and pulls back, Shiro looks up just like Keith expected he would earlier, dark eyelashes framing even darker eyes, his pupils dilated with arousal. It’s a deadly combination and Keith has to tip his head back with a groan. 

Wrapping his left hand around the base of Keith’s cock, Shiro pulls his mouth back and licks over the head. “That good already, baby?” he teases in a low, low voice that sparks heat through Keith’s belly.

“Please,” Keith whispers. “Fuck.”

Shiro laughs deep in his throat. “Already?”

“Shiro,” Keith says, but he’s helpless to figure out what he should say after that. He could beg, he could scream, but Shiro has this power over him that’s impossible to break free of. 

Shiro licks down the side of Keith’s cock in response and presses a kiss to the crease of his thigh. His tongue laves over Keith’s balls and all that does is remind Keith how desperately he needs to come right now, how easily he could, but it’s like Shiro can read his mind. Shiro’s hand tightens around the base of his cock, and Keith groans with some mixture of gratitude and disappointment. It’s torture—how is Keith supposed to handle Shiro on his knees in lingerie? Those fucking ruffled boyshorts are going to be the death of him, the memory of Shiro’s cock poking over the waistband practically burned into the backs of Keith’s eyelids.

“Please let me come,” Keith begs. He is not ashamed. “Shiro, please—”

“No,” Shiro says, his tone almost pleasant. “Not until I say you’re allowed. You want to be a good boy for me, right?”

Keith squeezes his eyelids shut. “Yes,” he sighs, resigned to whatever torture Shiro sees fit to put him through.

“Good,” Shiro says. His prosthetic hand removes its old on Keith’s stomach, disappearing somewhere that Keith can’t see. He doesn’t know where it’s going or why, but Shiro’s clearly got something up his sleeve—he does this to Keith all the time.

And yet it still surprises Keith when Shiro manhandles Keith into a new position, ass hanging off the edge of his seat with one leg tossed over Shiro’s shoulder. He’s confused for about three seconds but then suddenly Shiro is expertly swallowing his cock all the way down and one thick, metal finger covered in lube is nudging against his hole.

“Fuck,” Keith gasps, hips twitching uncontrollably. “Oh my god,  _ Shiro.” _

Shiro doesn’t answer because he’s deepthroating Keith and pushing his finger inside Keith all in the same motion, but his energy is smug regardless. Keith lands one hand on Shiro’s hair, trying his best not to grip so tight it stings, and the other he brings to his mouth, biting at his knuckles not to stifle himself but to do  _ something _ with all the explosive energy whirling inside him. Shiro’s mouth is so fucking good and Keith has missed it so fucking much.

It’s a miracle he’s held on as long as he has. 

“Shiro, I can’t—oh, fuck,” he bites out, too overwhelmed to remember what words he ought to use. Keith tugs at Shiro’s hair, trying to urge him to back off and stay close all at once. Having every ounce of Shiro’s attention focused so tightly on Keith makes it impossible to hold on any longer, and Keith can feel himself on the precipice of coming.

But just before it becomes too late to stop, Shiro’s mouth falls away.

“Were you about to come, baby? Even after I told you not to?” Shiro asks, panting out his every breath.

“Y-yes” Keith gasps. His head is tipped back against the seat; it’s too hard to look at Shiro’s flushed face and swollen, wet lips right now. It feels like anything could shove him over the edge at any moment.

Shiro licks teasingly at the head of Keith’s cock. “You didn't even ask me for permission.”

Keith could cry. He just wants to  _ come. _ “Fine, fuck, okay,” Keith hisses. He tries to move his hips to get Shiro to move faster, but he’s infuriating. “Shiro,  _ please.” _

“Please what, baby?”

Keith could rage at him. Could, if not for the fact that his cock is throbbing with the lack of attention. “Please—please suck me off,” Keith says quickly. “Please, Shiro, I’m—fuck, I’m so close, I really am, just let me come.”

“One more finger first,” Shiro bargains. He kisses the inside of Keith’s thigh, a sweet gesture that turns sharp with teeth. Keith’s leg twitches violently, but it’s the one thrown over Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro clamps his spare hand down on Keith’s thigh to keep him in place.

“Shiro—”

“Shh, baby,” Shiro coos. “I’ve got plans for you. I want to fuck you while you’re oversensitive, just the way you like it. You always cry so prettily for me, yeah? ”

Keith’s breath hisses out between his teeth. He gropes around for Shiro’s hair again, determined to grab a fistful and pull him away from sucking bruises onto Keith’s inner thighs and back onto his cock, but he only finds Shiro’s shoulder. That has to be enough for him because Shiro’s mouth has moved back to his balls, torturing him with his mouth so close to where Keith really wants it.

“Fuck,” Keith sobs. There’s wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes, but he’s pretty sure it’s just sheer frustration. “Fuck, just—just do it, Shiro, put the second finger in,  _ please.” _

“That’s all you gotta say, baby,” Shiro says. That’s not true, not at all, because Shiro usually loves to wind Keith tighter and tighter begging for that second finger, but Keith isn’t going to question the change today. Shiro’s just as desperate as he is, just as excited to finally have the time to drag it out properly the way they deserve. 

It’s always a stretch to go from one finger to two when Shiro uses his prosthetic hand to open Keith up for him, but that’s hardly a complaint. Keith whimpers when Shiro presses the tips of two fingers at his rim, too excited to keep quiet. He shivers with anticipation and Shiro doesn’t disappoint: he’s careful but relentless, just the way he knows Keith likes it. Having something thicker inside him is everything Keith has been missing the last several weeks. He’s a bit out of practice, he thinks wildly, but it’s muscle memory to open up for Shiro, to let him in and chase the pleasure he brings.

Besides, Keith has always liked it to feel like a little too much and the extra stretch of Shiro’s massive right hand is anything but unwelcome.

“Fuck,” Shiro whispers. He’s watching his fingers fuck Keith open, completely spellbound, and Keith’s whole chest flushes red with embarrassment and pride. And then Shiro starts talking again. "Missed this so much," he says. "Can't believe how long it's been, baby. You're so fucking tight."

“Please suck me off,” Keith begs. “I need to come, I need—need to come so you'll fuck me. Shiro,  _ please.” _

“You think you're ready?” Shiro asks. He’s fucking Keith hard with expert precision and it’s making Keith’s eyelids flutter and his limbs twitch uncontrollably; Shiro knows exactly what he’s doing, knows this is the best way to turn Keith into a complete mess. Of course Keith is ready. No matter how much time they spend apart from each other or how long they go without intimacy, Shiro will never forget just how to make Keith beg for him. 

“Please, Shiro, I know I’m ready,” Keith hisses. Or, at least, he knows he's close enough to ready. And who could be mad at him for wanting to feel every bit of the stretch, to really welcome the feeling of being fucked when he's missed it for so long? No one can make Keith feel the way Shiro does. No one can fuck him so well it feels like the answers to all his problems slotting into place.

And he's going to explode if Shiro doesn't put his money where his mouth is and swallow Keith down. He wants to kiss the taste of himself off of Shiro's tongue.

Miraculously, Shiro gives him what he wants. No more arguing, no more negotiation—just one darkly pleased laugh and then he leans up, takes Keith's cock back into his mouth, and fucks his fingers in deep. There's no real finesse or carefully crafted strategy to it; Keith is so close to orgasm he doesn't need any of that. It's enough for Shiro to take his whole cock down to the base, his mouth hot and wet and smooth, and Keith's hand lands again in Shiro's hair in response. He holds Shiro down even though he's not trying to get away and Keith comes right down his throat, spine arching up uncontrollably.

The noise Keith makes is barely human, caught somewhere between a moan and a growl, and there's no question of how perfectly Shiro feels around him. This is everything.

He comes so hard his vision blacks out a little bit. It's dramatic and loud and later he'll be utterly mortified that he came instantly, but in the moment, it's truly the best thing he's ever felt. And along with everything is the giddiness of knowing that Shiro is about to get his cock out too and fuck Keith until he's so overstimulated he cries for real.

He's missed Shiro's dick. Keith has missed Shiro's dick so very, very much and he can’t wait to be reunited with it.

Slowly, Shiro’s head pulls back. Keith's hand in his hair has no more strength left in it because his whole body is boneless. He looks down at Shiro, watches him lick his lips, and Keith feels crazed just seeing the roaring arousal in Shiro's eyes. There’s a smudge of white at the corner of his mouth that his tongue can’t quite reach and Keith wants to kiss it off for him, to taste himself in Shiro’s mouth and bite his bottom lip.

He's going to wreck Keith. And Keith is going to like it. 

“Fuck,” Shiro says. His voice comes out a little scratchy and wrecked, and Keith shivers at the sound of it. “Fuck, that was hot.”

“Feel free to keep going,” Keith says weakly. He just came so hard he doesn’t think anything could make him move under his own power, but Shiro has the advantage of being stupidly strong. If he needs Keith to move somewhere, he can work that out for himself.

Shiro’s dark eyes meet his. The still fingers inside Keith start to move again, undeniably stretching him, and the feeling of pleasure is different when Keith is post-orgasm. Shiro knows that, knows Keith’s body too well to forget, and so Keith knows that when those fingers fuck into him sharply, it’s because Shiro wants his whole body to jolt with surprise. Keith moans as Shiro’s left hand easily grips him under the thigh and pushes his leg in the air.

Pants still caught around his thighs, both of Keith’s legs go at once until he’s practically folded in half, thighs pressed to his chest.

“That’s it, baby,” Shiro mutters. His fingers are maddening. “Can you unlace your boots for me?”

Keith’s arms feel limp like cooked spaghetti. “Can’t you do it?” he pleads.

“Not one-handed,” Shiro says with a laugh. Keith pouts but knows it’s his fault—if only he didn’t feel the need to knot his laces as tightly as possible every time he puts them on.

It’s very difficult to undo knots while two inhumanly thick fingers are wrecking his ass without remorse. Keith’s doing okay, though, at least until Shiro decides his tongue needs to join in. Keith nearly knees himself in the jaw at the first touch of Shiro’s mouth at his rim, and Shiro doesn’t stop there. He just laughs when Keith protests that it’s too much for him to handle, which is fair because Keith  _ can  _ take it. His problem is more that every distraction adds infuriating seconds to how long he has to wait before he gets to have Shiro’s cock inside him. 

He gets one boot unlaced. Then he removes the boot by kicking his foot over his head so that it flies off and lands with a loud  _ thump  _ somewhere behind him. Keith doesn’t give a fuck about his boots right now, but it does make Shiro snort into the crease of his thigh.

“You got—got something to say?” Keith pants. He squirms until he’s got his jeans off one leg and his knees are free to fall away from each other, making room so Keith can see Shiro between his thighs. His hands grip the backs of his knees to pull his legs wider. His spine is curved into a position that should be impossible, but Keith is no mere human. 

Shiro doesn’t respond to Keith’s goading. “Think I wanna fuck you now,” he says instead.

“Yes,” Keith hisses. Yes, finally.

“Not until you’re naked though,” Shiro adds, pulling his fingers free. He flashes Keith a cheeky grin, far too proud of himself, and Keith curses him loudly. “You better hurry up, baby. I’m starting to think I should just take care of myself. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

In his heart of hearts, Keith knows that Shiro wouldn’t jerk himself off after this much foreplay. He knows. But it doesn’t stop him from seeing red at the injustice of the very thought.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Keith snarls. His fingernails claw at the laces of his remaining boot, nearly tearing it to shreds in his haste. He wrenches the shoe off his foot and nearly breaks his ankle doing the same to his jeans.

Keith doesn’t regret a single thing.

“Good boy,” Shiro says with a laugh. “Fuck, you’re so—”

He leans in unexpectedly and drags the flat of his tongue over Keith’s hole, tasting him one last time. Keith gasps and digs his nails into the backs of his thighs, contorting his body to make more room for Shiro’s wide shoulders between his legs. Shiro eats him out enthusiastically for several more seconds, his tongue sloppy just the way Keith likes it. Keith’s spent cock even manages a valiant twitch.

It’s very disappointing when Shiro stands up and steps backward until his legs hit the edge of the ship’s dash.

“What—” Keith says, dazed, but he’s quickly silenced.

Shiro’s left hand grips the thick girth of his cock over his underwear. The head of it is leaking into a small wet spot at the waistband and Keith’s mouth waters. He has an eye-level, full-frontal view of Shiro gently easing his cock out of the ruffled lingerie so it can stand proud between them. Keith has to physically stop himself from pitching forward to put his mouth on it; if he does that, this could all be over before he gets what he  _ really  _ wants.

Shiro holds his fucking massive cock in his hands, stroking it teasingly and Keith bares his teeth. There’s no reason for Shiro to be so far away, not when Keith’s hole is open and exposed and  _ waiting _ for his stupid husband to get the picture and deal with it.

“Come and get it, baby,” Shiro says with a grin. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

Keith scrambles to fling himself out of his seat. Shiro laughs brightly and his hands catch Keith around the waist as Keith tries his best to plaster his whole body up against Shiro’s. Keith is spun around with ease and pushed back against the dashboard.

“Legs up,” Shiro says. “Come on, baby, come on.”

“Fuck me,” Keith begs, wrapping his legs around Shiro’s hips and his arms around Shiro’s neck. He licks messily over that spot of come on Shiro’s face that’s been driving him  _ crazy.  _ “Fuck me  _ now,  _ Shiro.”

Shiro doesn’t answer with words. He sinks his fingers into Keith’s hair and drags him in for an open-mouthed kiss in the same moment that his metal hand shoves at the insides of Keith’s thighs hard enough to bruise. They’re not even an hour into their vacation and Keith is already covered in Shiro’s marks—he can’t wait to return the favor.

Shiro’s cock notches against his hole. Truthfully, Keith expects him to go slow. Shiro has this thing about wanting to be careful always, even when Keith doesn’t need him to be, and it’s as sweet as it is infuriating. Sometimes all Keith wants is to be  _ fucked,  _ taken hard and desperate like he knows Shiro wants, but Shiro always has some excuse about Keith not being ready enough to take it like that. 

Not today, though.

Today, Shiro’s mouth falls to the underside of Keith’s jaw to lick the sweat off his skin. In the same movement, his cock pushes inside Keith’s ass, fucking inside him with all the force available in Shiro’s body. There’s no hesitation, no gentling murmur of praise, only the sensation of being filled up so completely that Keith shouts incoherently, his spine quivering. He feels every single inch of Shiro inside him, and all he can do is drop his mouth to Shiro’s shoulder and bite him.

“I’m not going to last,” Shiro gasps, his breath already coming in pants.

“Kiss me,” Keith demands.

Shiro obeys.

It’s not a pretty kiss. There’s teeth and tongue and lips and every sensation is competing with Shiro’s cock fucking him deep, grinding into him at a maddeningly rough pace. Keith has missed this so much. His body is so hungry for it that his cock has hardened again, and when he grabs Shiro’s hand and pulls it to his dick to show him, Shiro growls with approval.

“You needed this bad,” Shiro whispers. His left hand fists Keith’s cock tightly, stroking him to the rhythm of how he’s fucking Keith’s ass. “Needed me inside you, didn’t you? Nothing else is good enough.”

“No, nothing,” Keith gasps. It’s almost embarrassing how close he already is to coming for a second time. “Shiro—”

“I’ve got you, baby, I’m gonna give you everything you need.”

Keith kisses him desperately. “Please,” he begs against Shiro’s lips, “please come inside me. Need you to fill me up, to mark me with it. Wanna be yours, Shiro wanna be—”

“You’re already mine,” Shiro says confidently. His hips speed up the pace and Keith can only give him a strangled moan in response. “All mine, baby, mine to use. Can you come one more time for me? Want to feel it while I’m fucking you.”

“Shiro,” Keith sobs. He buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder, overwhelmed and standing on the precipice again.

That’s when Shiro’s hand lets go of his cock.

“Come,” Shiro orders. “Come for me, come on my cock. Show me how much you need it.”

And even though Keith could scream at Shiro for taking his hand away, his orgasm is so close that it doesn’t matter. Shiro fucks him hard, angling his cock expertly to drive Keith crazy, and that’s all it takes for Keith to get off for a second time with a broken, tearful sob. He comes all over his own abs and probably Shiro’s too, messing them both up, and he doesn’t feel bad about it at all. 

He’s so dazed by the force of his orgasm that he doesn’t recognize the warning signs of Shiro getting close. Shiro says something, his voice deep and hungry, and then his cock slams in deep, his hips trying to grind it in even deeper. He comes so much and for so long and all Keith can do is hold his shaking body in his arms, crushing them together so tightly that they may as well be stuck together. Irresistible warmth spreads all through Keith's body at the knowledge he's finally being filled up like he deserves, like he's wanted for weeks.

Shiro is kind enough to let him savor it in silence, and Keith focuses on nothing but the sheer closeness of their bodies. When Shiro's legs are too shaky for him to keep standing, he gently hooks his hands under Keith's thighs and picks him up, stumbling backward until he can sit heavily in the pilot's chair. 

If Keith could purr, he would be doing it now: he was so, so right to order the extra-wide seats because there’s exactly enough room for his knees to rest on either side of Shiro’s lap.

He curls as close as he can in Shiro's lap and luxuriates in the sensation of Shiro's cock softening while it's still inside him. They rest there for a long time, at first catching their breath and then just hugging each other. It's the most intimate thing Keith has felt in a long, long time. 

Keith kisses the part of Shiro's chest that's right next to his mouth. He could stay here forever.

At some point, Shiro's fingers nudge at the underside of Keith's chin, urging him to lift his face up. Keith is confused as he follows, but when Shiro draws him in for a long, slow kiss, he relaxes into it. He licks lazily into Shiro's mouth and strokes his hand over Shiro's chest, scritching his fingers through soft chest hair all the way down to the silky underwear clinging to his hip. Shiro hums with amusement and sucks at Keith's tongue to distract him.

The kiss breaks naturally when it's gotten so slow that it's barely a kiss anymore. Keith leans his forehead against Shiro's. He can feel that unmistakable sensation of come dripping out of him around Shiro’s soft cock still inside him, probably making a mess of Shiro's nice underwear, but he doesn't feel bad. He'll buy Shiro a million more pairs just so they can ruin them all like this.

“How was that, baby?” Shiro whispers.

Keith hums contentedly and pecks Shiro on the lips. Shiro's hand strokes affectionately over Keith's ass and Keith wriggles closer in response. There's not anywhere for him to go, but he feels better trying to close the nonexistent space between their bodies.

Keith knows without question that intimacy is more than sex and that sex is far from the basis of a relationship as deep and enduring as theirs. He could live the rest of his life without sex as long as it’s with Shiro and would do so happily. But as long as sex is on the table—as long as Shiro’s hands on his skin spark a longing so powerful it brings Keith to his knees—he  _ misses _ this closeness when it isn’t there. It’s not just about having an orgasm or about how hot Shiro is. It’s knowing that Shiro wants to spend time with him, wants to hold him, wants to trust Keith with his pleasure: there’s no greater high than knowing Shiro is vulnerable with Keith in ways that no one else will ever see.

“I missed you,” Keith sighs against Shiro’s skin. 

“I know,” Shiro whispers. “I know, baby, and that’s my fault and I’m sorry.”

Keith pokes Shiro in the nipple. “It’s not your fault. Not any more than it is mine, at least.”

“Explain,” Shiro says after a long pause.

“I know you,” Keith says. “I know you’re stubborn and dedicated. And sometimes that makes you obsessive and you forget about other things, but it’s not my job to sit there and take that excuse. I’m your husband and I’m supposed to be the one who calls you an idiot and forces you to take a break when you won’t give yourself permission to.”

“I don’t remember that in our vows,” Shiro mumbles.

“Shut up. I’m adding it retroactively.”

Shiro snorts and rubs Keith’s back with his big, warm palm. “That is  _ not _ how it works,” he says.

“Is too.”

“Nope.” Shiro pats Keith on the ass. “You can add it, though, when we renew our vows next year for our fifth anniversary.”

Keith pauses. They’ve never spoken about vow renewals but his heart is absolutely soaring to know that Shiro is thinking about it. He’s glad that his face is tucked in the crook of Shiro’s neck and out of sight, because the smile on Keith’s face right now is so big it would be embarrassing.

“Is that a promise?” Keith asks.

“It is,” Shiro swears. “That is definitely a promise, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <3
> 
> and as always, you can find me on twitter @[disloyalpunk](http://twitter.com/disloyalpunk)


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